


There's No Place Like Home

by itsastanaphon



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Rimming, Slow Burn, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-18
Updated: 2016-04-26
Packaged: 2018-04-26 21:22:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 48,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5020972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsastanaphon/pseuds/itsastanaphon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coffee Shop AU blended with a Modern Setting AU where John and Adamska meet under completely different circumstances.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Schedule and the Letter

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Shot Me Down](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4528257) by [SewSewDef](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SewSewDef/pseuds/SewSewDef). 



> Takes place in Maryland. All shops, roads, buildings, schools, and directions are all factual to the city of Baltimore.

            He had started work there not too long ago. It was nice, shockingly soothing work, nothing too mind-boggling or confusing, and nothing that made him want to tear his hair out. Sometimes he had to mop, but that didn’t bother him. It was clean here; the streets were pretty safe, safer then Russia’s; the people were nice, for the most part, but there were assholes everywhere. The commute was nice. It was just a short walk from the small coffee shop on Cathedral Street, where he worked, to his apartment. Only about three blocks north. He lived much closer to the universities, where there was always someone walking around, night or day. Most of the time he found himself cleaning off tables, wiping them down with a wet rag after people had eaten and left. Late at night like this, just before closing, people usually left the biggest messes. He resented them for that. During the day, most people came here for a quick lunch, or a cup of coffee and then ran right back out the door again. Not much to clean up after, really. Most people pickup after themselves; usually there was little clean up to do in the front. Most of his time was spent making coffee or sandwiches, bagels, or ringing up peoples prepackaged salads from the front end. Usually people wanted in and out and that made his life much easier. It didn’t bother him, besides, the less small talk the better.

           He finished wiping the tables down and threw the damp rag over his shoulder, turning sharply on his heel; he headed back behind the counter. The squeaking of his sneakers on the tiled floor was the only warning he gave as he rounded the corner and past the register. Nadine, the store manager, was counting bills behind the counter, out of sight of any passersby and checking the results against the receipts. He was only somewhat paying attention to her from the corner of his eye as he laid the used rag in the sink, running hot water onto it to clean it of any grime.

            “You get all those trays into the washer?” Nadine said quietly as she continued to count a stack of bills just under the counter, trying to evade the lingering customers attention.

            “Yep.” He said as he went to the espresso machine, reaching around back, and flipping the switch into the off position for the night. He’d already cleaned the steamer perfectly, wiped up any residual coffee bean grinds, and rinsed the metal plate through hot running water. The morning shift could turn it on again and worry about that horrendous buzzing sound the machine had started making. The street lamps outside were coming on and the cars whizzing by on Cathedral Street were lessening now that the sun had set. They were officially closing in 15 minutes and for this he was grateful. He was tired and he was ready to go home and collapse into bed. Maybe take a shower, but that depended on how tired he was after he walked home.

            “Listen, Adam…” his managers voice was almost a whisper as she counted bills and tried to carry on a normal conversation at the same time, “I need you do me a favor starting this coming Monday.” He stiffened; he was always leery with whatever favors Nadine would ask of him. She was notorious for asking for too much. Adam came to a full stop as he looked up at Nadine. His mouth was a straight line. The hot running water in the sink continued to run at a high rate and as he stared at Nadine, waiting for her to continue, he wrung the rag out with both hands, idly. Her eyes skittered from the bills she was counting to Adam’s icy exterior.

            “Yes,” he said crisply, letting go of the rag and tucking his still wet hands into his apron pockets quietly. Nadine put a pile of twenties back in the drawer, sighing as she wrote some numbers down on a pad of paper. She rubbed the back of her neck before speaking.  

            “So, here’s the deal. Someone quit this morning: totally unexpectedly. I didn’t want to say anything to anyone because I didn’t want to alarm the staff.” Adam nodded curtly, listening intently. Nadine sighed as she continued, “I don’t have a replacement for the morning shift, and to be totally frank with you, I don’t want to have to train some brand new person for opening, because its harder then closing.” Adam mutely nodded. His pale eyes staring at her from under loose platinum blonde strands of hair that fell into his face, despite his attempts at pushing them back behind his ear.

            “If its not too much trouble, do you think you can join the morning opening shift?” Nadine’s words were firm but she was still asking him. He tilted his head from side to side, biting his bottom lip, as if deep in thought. He did hate mornings.

            “I don’t see why not.” He said finally, “Mornings aren’t really…my _thing_.” He widened his eyes to exemplify his point, Nadine nodded sympathetically, “What time does the morning team start?” He asked quietly, his hands beginning to fidget in his pockets now.

            “You’d probably have to be here around…” she squinted as she looked up at the ceiling, her head tilting back and forth as she counted, “…probably…I’d say about 6 am. That’s when the morning rush comes in. But, on the upswing, then you have the whole rest of your day! You can do whatever after 2:00 pm, that’s when your shift would be over.”  She threw her arms half way up in the air and laughed an anxious sort of laughter. Adam looked down at his feet, wiggling his toes in his grey sneakers, biting his bottom lip again as he stared out of the large windows that looked out over the street. He loved nighttime. He was so active at night. He loved staying up late and he loved doing things at night and he knew this would make him tired, he’d be exhausted, and he sighed audibly.

            “Alright, but it’s not permanent.” His voice was cutting, that crisp coldness, that definitive verbal throw down he always defaulted to. Nadine shook her head and frowned.

            “Nah, don’t worry, we’ll find someone to replace you in the mornings if you really don’t like it. I can even start putting feelers out for it now, if you know you’re not going to want to stay in that slot?” She went back to the cash register as she spoke, pulling out the ten-dollar bills and beginning to count them as well. She licked her thumb, fanning through the bills quickly, then writing the number down on the pad of paper. Adam nodded to himself as she counted.

            “Yeah, uh…yeah I can do the morning hours, for a little while anyway. I do really like the night shift best though.” He began to back away from her, heel to toe, as he tried to leave to the back of the shop. It was time to go, he wanted to take off this apron and go to home. He wanted to crash into his bed. His shoes were squeaking on the freshly cleaned tiled floor. Nadine continued counting up the register and wrote down some more numbers. Muttering to herself slightly as she counted in her head and tried to carry on a conversation all in one fell swoop. Finally coming to complete halt and turning to Adam.

            “Great, thanks Adam, you just made my life a hell of a lot easier.” She chuckled to herself and he gave a fake, hollow smile. Showing his straight, white teeth to her then. Simply to placate her, really, to show her that he was fine with this too, that he could put up with this too, just one more thing on his plate. Secretly, he dreaded waking up that early. Secretly, he dreaded walking to work in the cold early morning air.

            It took Adam very little time to fetch his belongings from his locker, put his apron inside it, and scoot out the front door. He did not waste any time in wishing Nadine a _good evening_ or a _goodbye_ , he simply left with a short nod as he backed up out the glass door. Leaving Nadine to finish counting the register, she didn’t seem to mind his quick exodus though. He walked back to his apartment in a self-imposed silence. The cars whizzing by didn’t bother him, they simply sped past, causing only a bit of crisp wind to smack him in the face. His scarf moved this way and that as the brisk wind went rushing by. Luckily, there wasn’t much traffic in the city this late at night. There were no headphones in his ears, no whistling, no cell phone, no nothing. He simply walked up Cathedral Street to the intersection of Read Street, following that along till he reached Saint Paul Street, turning right and heading north on it. It wasn’t long before he reached the old row house where he lived.

           It was an original one, built in the mid 1800’s by a German immigrant. It had a beautiful brick exterior, genuine plaster molding on the interior, hardwood floors, and hand crafted arches above the door frames. Sadly though it had been cut up into various sized apartments back in the 1980’s, during the housing boom. There were about six apartments in the whole building, which was a testimony to how large it had once been as a single family home. It was an end unit, so it was a bit larger then its neighbors. Adam took out his keys as he ascended the heavy, throughly intricate carved, stone stairs, unlocking the front security door and allowing it to slam shut behind him. It was a heavy, solid thing, and that slamming sound comforted him. He walked briskly over to the mailbox on the wall; unlocking it and grabbing the small pile of envelopes inside.

           One of them was colored. It was a card, a note, it was a letter from someone: it was personal though. He flipped it over. No return address. He frowned, his eyes scanning the envelope for signs of familiar handwriting but found none. It was written in English, but bulky, blocky lettering. He continued walking, rounding the corner and ascending the hardwood stairs up to the second floor. His apartment overlooked the main street, so they had a nice view but on the weekends it could get a bit loud. It was small, one of the smaller two-bed rooms he could find, but it worked for him and his roommate. He unlocked the door with practiced ease and shut it behind him with his foot, allowing it to click shut audibly before turning around the locking the dead bolt behind him. He threw the rest of the mail on the coffee table in the living room; some of it wasn’t his after all. It was his roommates’ mail. Adam figured he’d let him sift through his own mail, usually Adam didn’t even bother bringing his roommates mail up with him, but this time he was feeling generous. The coffee table sat in front of an Ikea couch that Adam had bought second hand, but then never used it. The colorful envelope stayed in his hand. He frowned as he opened it. He couldn’t imagine whom it would be from or who had his address here in the United States. He had cut a lot of ties when he had left Russia. Many people had been left behind and he knew then, as much as he knew now, that it had been for the best.

            He ripped opened the brightly colored paper envelope and a soft wide grin spread across his face. It was a letter from his orphanage in Russia, from when he was a child, from before he was able to leave. He should have known that she wouldn’t have forgotten him, not since he was one of the few who made it out of that horrible place. She had been like a mother to him. The letter reminded him of what used to be though, which stung and burned. He found his own hand gliding its way over his jacket to cover his heart, unconsciously. But it was always nice to see his name spelled out in lovely, beautiful true Russian cursive, “My Dearest Adamska,” the letter began.

            He slowly sat himself down on his vacant Ikea couch and read it twice.

 


	2. 7:35 a.m. and $2.15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam works the morning shift for the first time. There's some snow, a co-worker, and a double parked truck.

            Monday came too quickly. The weekend was too short; there were never enough hours. The snow had come on too fast Sunday evening. Cars were covered before sunrise and the plows were running behind schedule, not having had enough warning to clear the snow away before the work rush. The cars moving on the road now were honking their horns, skittering past one another angrily. The plows had pushed most of the fallen snow up onto the sidewalk, where people dodged the cold, white piles as much as they could. Adam didn’t complain, despite having to walk in the snow, this wasn’t nearly as bad as it had been growing up in Russia. In Russia the snow wasn’t something that inconvenienced you, or was simply an irritation, no, no, it stopped you, it hurt you, it could kill you. Here it seemed that people didn’t understand that; here it was just something to be removed and wished away. 

            The cars skittered by, the slush flying in all directions, horns blaring here and there. He kept walking, his face tucked into his scarf. His hands pressed deeply into his pockets, his face pointed downward, trying to avoid the sharp wind. He was cold, but thankful for the short walk to work. Thankful for the boots he was wearing, waterproof as they were, and for his gloves. Luckily his classes had already been cancelled for the day. Which meant after work he could go home and do nothing for a while and that gave him solace. He could lie in his warm bed and hide from his roommate and watch TV. He was regretting telling Nadine he could do this. He hated mornings and this snow situation was making it worse. He tromped over one larger pile of black and grey slushy snow that had been pushed onto the sidewalk. He grumbled to himself, his right boot crashing through the snow pile on the other side of the monstrous mound. He could feel the snow and ice getting inside his boot, his sock would now be soaking wet for the rest of the journey. _  
_

           He was greatly agitated as he reached the glass doors of the shop. Scrounging around in his pocket, trying to feel through the leather of his gloves, they always made it harder to grasp everything. He finally fished out a key on a single brass ring, his gloved hands unlocked the door and push it open. He slipped inside quickly, hoping the winter wind wouldn’t follow him. The door shut behind him with a soft sound, the glass touching on glass, the rubber sealant causing the doors to make a soft clinging sound as they closed. He shivered at the temperature difference as he turned to lock the door behind him with a swift click of the metal knob. He knew he only had twenty minutes before he had to be in his uniform and be prepared to deal with human beings at their worst. He frowned, his cheeks were stinging from the cold, his pale skin turning just the slightest shade of pink, despite his scarf and his coat and his resistance to winters wrath. In the back room he was able to shed his layers and hang them up in his locker, he was meticulous, always putting the outer layer on top of everything else so it would all dry properly. He pulled his apron out, the nice one, with the companies’ logo on it and he tied the top around his neck. It always itched and left a red mark on his skin at the end of the day, despite being the better looking one: no stains, no marks, no cuts on the fabric. He sighed, checking his phone one last time for any texts or emails before putting it in his apron pocket. 

           The door to the shop opened once more, the clicking of the lock and the _woosh_ of the glass indicating someone’s arrival, “Morning!" Came an overtly cheerful, high pitched voice, "You’re Adam, right?” A girl about his age, maybe a little older, approached him excitedly as Adam exited the back room, still reaching behind himself to tie on his apron. He nodded slowly, a reluctant smile creeping across his face as he tied the apron in a double knot. The girl was bubbly and had a warm smile, her eyes were bright and fresh and her hair bounced as she walked. Adam gave the girl a firmer nod and a bigger forced smile, as he immediately turned to the sink to start running hot water. She looked awkward and uncomfortable standing there with her bag on her shoulder and her right hand at the ready for a handshake. But she seemed to get the message and slowly she lowered her hand, clicking her teeth together audibly, clearing her throat, as if concerned that Adam may have forgotten about her already. He sighed as he waited for the water to get hot.

           “Yes, I’m Adam.” He said, turning to look at her finally, he gave her a polite, cold smile, one eyebrow arching upwards to the ceiling. The hot water from the sinks tap was rushing in the background now as an ever-present reminder of what had to be done. Adam turned to grab the main coffee pot, not bothering to ask the girl how they operate in the morning shift, he had a vague idea and starting coffee seemed to be it. The girl walked past Adam quickly; head down, readjusting her bag off her shoulder as she went. She was in the back and he could hear her locker opening and shutting, her shuffling about as he filled the giant percolator full of water. She emerged from the back without her bag, her hair tied up, and her apron on. She sighed as she looked around the kitchen for something to do, obviously unsure of how to deal with the new comer and his swift approach.

           “Well, uh, welcome to the morning shift!” She said with what felt like mandatory excitement, “So…did Nadine tell you what needed to be done in the morning or…?” The girl allowed the sentence to trail off, her hands floating mid air as she spoke, she was obviously uncomfortable. Adam shrugged, turning off the hot water and putting the percolator onto the counter. 

           “No, not really," he grunted slightly as he readjusted the percolator, "I figured making coffee was all the same. Whatever time of the day it is,” he said quickly as he plugged in the percolator to the wall. It began to click and bubble to life with a low sound. He wasn’t stupid though, he could figure out a coffee pot or how to clean the equipment. He figured it was mostly the same as the evening shift. He wasn’t really interested in any of this small talk, he simply wanted to get this job done, not make idle chit chat. The girl nodded, her long brown hair, now in a bun on her head, bobbed this way and that as she nodded. She began to pick at it as she spoke, Adam standing quietly by with his hands in his apron pockets, waiting, yawning.

           “I’m Jillian, by the way.” She said quickly, in an upbeat tone, trying to be kind and warm and welcoming again. Adam nodded swiftly to her, giving her some acknowledgment. She didn't move any closer to him as she had tried before. She made a gesture as though she was about to speak, when Adam cut her off. 

           “Do you work the register this early in the morning or would you prefer I did?” He asked curtly. He did not say her name and he did not want her to have any false impressions. Adam was not interested in having friends at work. Work was work, and play was play; or so he’d been taught his whole life. Adam’s hands never left his apron pockets as his left eyebrow cocked upwards towards the ceiling. Jillian shrugged.

           “Whatever you’re more comfortable with is fine. It’ll be just you and me until about 11:30? Then the next shift will be here for the lunch rush.” Adam nodded and tuned out most of everything else Jillian said. She was talking about so and so who worked the lunch rush and how Nadine scheduled him wrong every time and something or other about how irritating that all was. Adam simply nodded and hummed. He didn't want to be a part of it all, he never did. 

           “I’ll just make the orders, if you’re fine on the register?” He asked finally, Jillian’s gossip train now seemingly over. Adam’s tone was smooth and uninterested. Jillian nodded, running her tongue over her bottom lip, “Sure! That’s fine. Oh, before I forget, we have people who we consider regulars. I don’t know if you have those during the evening or not, it seems to be a morning thing, but anyway, there’s about…I don’t know,” she tilted her head from the left to the right, thinking, “…probably about five or six people who come in every morning who want the same thing _every_ morning.” She chuckled lightly as she continued, “Try to make sure it’s exactly what they asked for.” Adam didn’t nod, nor did he smile, his face breaking into a flat line, he stood there, hands in his apron pockets.

            “I make everyone’s orders exactly as they ask for them, regardless of the customer being a regular or not.” Jillian gave a stiff laugh, opening her eyes widely as she looked down at the floor, away from Adam's gaze. Again, Adam did not smile. He simply turned to clean the counters and run more hot water. It didn’t take him long to get used to this system. Jillian stuck to her own duties, readying the register and cleaning up the front. Adam went ahead and stocked the pastry bar and cleaned the espresso machine, along with rinsing out various tubs, containers, and mixers. They didn’t speak much past those first awkward minutes, but everything was clean and ready to go by 6:45 a.m. when Jillian turned the sign and unlocked the door.

            Adam yawned again, waiting for something to happen now. Past everything being cleaned up there really wasn’t much left to do except wait. Jillian was organizing chairs. For a brief moment he thought about helping her but then he heard that familiar _whoosh_ of the glass door. A woman walked in, she was wearing a skirt suit and high heels, and she was on the phone, yelling at someone on the other end. She spoke to no one in particular and simply barked her order at Adam. He didn’t mind, he took the order, told her how much she owed and set about his duties. Adam asked no questions, he simply did as he was supposed to do; perhaps, he had given her decaf instead of standard coffee, but that had been his little secret. The woman left the shop still on the phone, still barking into it, and none the wiser, her sharp heels clicking on the tiled floors and out the door onto Cathedral Street. Idly, he wondered if the ice would get her walking around on those high heels. Adam smiled to himself, pleased with his little act of deception. Several more people came in, ordered, and left. Jillian told Adam after they had gone which ones were regulars and which ones weren’t. He was indifferent really, not caring if they were regulars or not. Jillian continued to try and keep busy; Adam suspected it was so she could avoid him.

            7:26 a.m. came and Adam figured this would be the last wave of people to stop in for some time, as it was soon 8:00 a.m. and people were now rushing to get to work. Trying to get in just under the wire. Trying to beat that yellow light to the finishing line. Trying to run, run, run to the next point so they could get that good parking space or scoot in just before the boss. Now was crunch time. Adam cleaned the espresso machines nozzles, rinsed out the coffee grinders tray, and Jillian picked up stray pieces of trash that people had left over by the condiments bar.

            Adam was running more hot water, cleaning out the blender parts and taking a warm rag to the counter to get all the excess ground coffee beans up. It was at 7:35 a.m. that a large black truck pulled up outside. Adam saw it pull up from the corner of his eye, not really noticing the behemoth, as it was so plain, simply an American box on wheels. He did however take note that it was double parked on the road. Right out front. Right in front of the intersection from Read Street onto Cathedral, no light there, simply a wishy-washy yield sign that people mostly ignored. So either the owner didn’t care if they got hit, as that intersection was notorious for accidents, or the driver was a cop. This action caught Adam's attention and he watched suspiciously from behind the counter. Slinging the wet rag down onto the edge of the stainless steel sink, he prepared to take this persons order; despite how they may chose to park their vehicle. Jillian didn’t seem to notice the truck at all; she simply took up trays and moved chairs around, trying to get her broom under the tables. She cursed as she realized she’d have to move a table to get to a stray straw wrapper trapped under the metal leg. The glass doors opened with their trademark soft _whoosh_ and the sound of heavy boots punctuated the air. Adam waited at the register as he had all morning every time someone came in. His hands fidgeted in his pockets, waiting till the customer got to the counter.

           “Good morning,” Adam said plainly, trying to stifle a yawn. The man standing across the counter from him nodded. No smile, no chitchat, no ‘ _hello’_ , no ‘ _go to hell’_ , no nothing. Adam squinted at the other man harshly; this was not the usual American economic or social exchange. Everything in Adam’s mind, everything he had been taught, everything he knew was being thrown under a train in one swift movement. Usually there was some kind of discourse. There was a ‘hello’ or a ‘good morning’, something, _anything_ , but here, no, nothing. The man across the counter cleared his throat; it was a deep grumbling sound, like gravel being poured too quickly. Adam's fingers twitched as he waited to punch in the order to the register.

           “Uh yeah…medium, black, leave about this much room at the top.” The customers voice was deep and he spoke quietly. He indicated with his fingers how much room he wanted left in the cup and Adam simply nodded. The man had rough looking hands, a workers hands and his beard was scraggly, thick and brown. His hair was brown, mahogany brown, with no grey anywhere to be seen. Most curious of all though was that he wore an eye patch on his right eye. The other one was a stunning, deep blue. He was wearing a light jacket, something one might wear in early spring or when it rained in the summer. No gloves, no hat, no heavy down coat, nothing to indicate that there was snow on the ground outside or that it was twenty-five degrees and there were patches of ice everywhere. 

            “That’ll be $2.15.” Adam said briskly, his voice crisp and neutral. He avoided the man’s gaze though, his eyes skittering everywhere but that one blue eye watching him closely. The man across the counter sighed and dug into the pocket of his jeans, as if he hadn’t expected to have to pay, his mouth became a crooked line as he dug down into the pocket, looking for stray bills and change. Adam grew somewhat impatient, raising his eyebrow, and watching this strange man in front of him struggle with the concept of having a wallet. The man paused before answering, “here’s….two bucks and….” The man handed Adam two crumpled up one dollar bills that had obviously seen better days. He set about digging in his other pocket for fifteen cents, “…and…." he counted it out quickly before handing it over, "...fifteen cents.” The coins were warm as they landed in Adams outstretched hand readily enough. The bills were so crumpled that Adam had to run them against the edge of the counter to get them straight enough to place into the register properly. He sighed; this was irritating and took up time. But in the end, Adam deposited the money into the register and turned to pour a simple cup of black coffee. He realized that this was something he hadn’t done all morning. Everyone wanted something special, hazelnut syrup, caramel drizzle, soy milk, anything, and everything: not this man. He just wanted a black coffee with some room at the top. The man waited patiently though, he didn’t lean on the counter, or shuffle about, and he didn’t make idle chitchat or small talk. He didn’t ask Adam anything about anything. He stood stock-still as he waited, his face turned out towards where his truck was parked. Adam brought the cup over to him.

           “Here you go. Sleeve or no sleeve?” Adam asked, holding out a cardboard sleeve in his left hand, the coffee cup in his right. The man shook his head, raising a right hand in a declining motion to the sleeve, and took the cup from Adam; his rough hand grazed Adam’s fingers. But Adam pulled away quickly, touching people was unnecessary, and it was weird. He shoved his hands down into his apron swiftly, protecting them. 

           “Nah.” The man said casually, “It’s just going to sit in a cup holder for a bit. It’ll cool down on its own.” He nodded to Adam, no ‘ _thank you’_ , just a small, crooked grin spread across his face. With that he turned and left, his heavy work boots making a weighty sound on the tiled floor as he left. He didn’t say anything to Jillian, simply walked by and pushed his way out of the door with his shoulder, leaning into the glass to move it. Adam watched the strange man as he got back into his double-parked truck and drove off. He stood there and stared after the black truck, watching it pull out in front of some oncoming traffic. A horn was beeped, someone shouted, but the other car had no choice but to yield to the size of the vehicle, lest they be crushed to death under the black machines tonnage. Adam was quiet for some time, squinting out the windows, watching the traffic pass by. His hands fidgeted in his apron pockets, his phone vibrating in some kind of alert, but he wasn't interested in checking it now. He was thinking. His eyes thin slits as he stared out the window and thought, idly noticing Jillian tinkering about with the sugar and cream containers. 

           “I take it that was a regular?” Adam said, finally breaking his silence to Jillian. It was the first thing he’d said to her all morning without being prompted. She looked up from refilling the cream pitcher, her mouth opened and closed again as she stared at Adam. She shook her head slightly and gestured over her shoulder out the window. Adam nodded. 

           “Oh, him? Yeah, that’s just that guy.” She vaguely waved her hand in the direction that the man had left in, “I don’t know his name or anything; he’s really kind of weird actually? He comes in every morning. He’s not really…the friendliest person in the world.” She made a face and rolled her eyes, as if everyone should be friendly and warm. Adam hummed to himself idly. He didn’t get back to work right away, simply standing behind the register, hands in pockets, watching Jillian struggle with the sugar container now, really, simply watching her struggle. He did find himself wondering why the man wasn’t very friendly, since he was a regular, you’d think he would have developed a friendship, a rapport, or at least some manners, but…no, he hadn’t. _He probably doesn’t care about any of that,_ a voice in the back of Adam’s head whispered. But now Adam was curious, he had to know, the man hadn’t even so much as acknowledged him. 

           Why hadn't he acknowledged him? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love feedback! So let me know if you don't like something or if you DO like something! Or hit me up on tumblr: http://itsastanaphon.tumblr.com/ and let me know your thoughts! 
> 
> THANKS READERS!


	3. Malfunctions and Small Chatter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a coffee pot on the fritz, that man is back, and Adam hates mornings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have a great big thank you to rammy-flowers.tumblr.com! For the lovely fan art that they composed about this story. Thank you so much!  
> (It wont let me link this, so you have to be hard working and copy and paste! Sorry! http://itsastanaphon.tumblr.com/post/131714036011/rammy-flowers-im-not-100-happy-with-this-but#notes)

            Mornings were wearing on him. He hated this; hated the morning, the way everything just reset itself upon waking from an exhaustion-induced sleep the night before. He hated the process of waking up, how cold the floor was on his feet, having to get dressed and the rushing, the running, and the almost sprinting out the door and down the street. He wanted to lie in bed and watch the snowfall. He wanted to stay warm under his many blankets for as long as he could stand it, or until he talked himself into being productive. He liked lying in bed. He liked watching everyone around him go rushing about. He wanted to stay warm and comfy and not worry about dealing with customers and people rushing in and out and demanding this and that. But no, he was not in his warm bed in his small apartment, in his small room with the tiny windows. He was trudging through the snow, not for the last time, walking to work to start the morning shift. He had asked Nadine about a replacement, but she had waved him off. Telling him she was working on it, but that was a flimsy excuse, at best. The mornings were just getting to him now, really starting to irk him. Especially after those first few days had passed. At first it wasn’t so bad: the waking, the walking, the shivering. But after the newness had worn off Adam found himself wishing he’d never agreed to this deal in the first place. Jillian insisted on coming up every morning with her bubbly, exuberant greeting. Adam had taken to simply nodding to her with a tight forced grin on his face. 

             Just like all the other people in his life, his classmates, customers, and coworkers, even his roommate: he just didn’t. He couldn’t describe why he didn’t like someone or something; Adam just preferred to go his own way. Which was usually alone. He was trying to be “polite” as they called it when dealing with others. So he took orders diligently, filled them perfectly, and even ran the cash register, all in a one, two, three smooth stepping motion. Jillian wasn’t even needed as long as Adam was there. He kept everything moving. He kept everything on time. Adam knew this and made sure that now Jillian knew it too. She had been reduced to a refuse remover. All she did was sweep, pick up trash, refill the creamer and sugar dispensers and wipe down tables. He didn’t need her help behind the counter, that much was clear and that much he was pleased with.

            Adam watched the clock, waiting for it to be 9:00 a.m. so he could sit down for a couple of minutes outside in the winter wind and take his break. Perhaps it was too cold to do so, but it was refreshing. It was only 7:21 a.m. He sighed, rubbing his face with both hands, pulling at his pale cheeks, turning them pink. That was when he saw it. Through his fingers as he pulled and pushed on his face, trying to stay awake: that large, black truck pulling up and double-parking just outside. It was that guy again. That strange man with the beard and the eye patch. That man who never said more then what he had to say, Adam sighed. There was something about this guy that drove him up the wall, it made him think in circles, he didn’t understand it at all and that made Adam crazy. He didn’t know how to deal with someone who didn’t play the game. Sure, there were a ton of people who came in and left without a  _hello_ or a  _goodbye_ but this was different; this man wasn’t being dismissive or rude, he was just…not interested. Adam wrinkled his nose slightly but stood by the register diligently, regardless of what he thought, hands in his apron pockets. He gave a small smile at the strange man as he came through the glass doors of the store. The man’s beard had snow in it, but he didn’t bother to smooth it out, he simply let it melt in the wiry hair.

            “Medium, black, this much room?” Adam asked in a sarcastic tone. He held up his fingers to indicate the room to be left in the cup, as the man walked up to the counter, giving Adam a crooked smile and nodding. 

            “$2.15?” He asked quietly. It was Adam’s turn to nod as he opened the register. They didn’t share a lot of talk beyond those memorized lines. That had been the score for days now. Adam memorized what the man wanted, how he wanted it and the man gave him $2.15 for it. Jillian quietly bussed trays and picked up trash, still, always, seemingly never ending and always in the background. There wasn’t anything else for her to do though. Adam made the man his coffee, just as he usually did; it was always the easiest order to complete.

            “Here.” Adam handed the man his coffee, never even offering a sleeve for it anymore, as the man never wanted one. He nodded his approval and turned to leave, popping open the lid to the cup, not for the first time. He frowned as he looked inside, saying more to Adam in several seconds then he ever had beyond their rehearsed lines, “…there’s something wrong with your coffee pot.” Adam raised an eyebrow and leaned across the counter as the man tilted the cup downwards to show Adam. Instead of a pure black liquid in the cup there were coffee grinds floating on the top, a foam, and something that looked suspiciously like a ripped filter. Adam glared into the cup, “ _Shit_ ,” he said whispered under his breath as he gestured for the man to give the cup back, “I’ll make you one in the other pot. Sorry, just…wait here.” Adam cursed inwardly to himself as the man simply leaned on the counter, like he had all the time in the world. He was still double-parked and Adam knew this, so he was trying to move at a faster pace. Thinking about where the smaller filters were for the smaller coffeepot, which never got used. A thousand thoughts flying through his head about why this might have happened and how he was going to fix it once this man was gone, how much time this was going to take up, but that was when he heard a deep chuckling.

            “Slow down there, bud. You don’t need to rush, really.” Adam didn’t turn around; he poured the ruined coffee down the sink drain. He smirked to himself as he filled up the other coffee pot, the back up one. He knew he did have to hurry up. 

            “Yeah well, if there’s something wrong with the big one, then I don’t know how I’ll make it to 1:00 p.m.” Adam said quickly, harshly almost, as he tried to find smaller filters for the other coffee pot. It was a standard personalized coffee pot, just like someone would have in their home, and Adam knew it wouldn’t do to have that be the only source of coffee for customers; especially if it had to last till 1:00 p.m.

            “Is that the time you get off work?” The man’s voice was barely above a rumble. Adam sighed, still digging through boxes, only half-heartedly listening to the man now as he dug in the second shelf cabinet. 

            “Yeah, uh…that’s my schedule. I…" Adam faltered for a heartbeat, "I come in at 6:00 a.m…,” he pulled himself up onto the counter with a  _hmph_ sound, his one knee resting on the surface to reach into the back of the cabinetry to check for smaller filters, his other leg dangling out over the edge, “…I walk through snow at 6:00 a.m and then I get to go home and die at 1:00 p.m.” His fingers touched on the box in the far back, just barely pulling it out and into his palm. He pushed himself back down onto the floor. Both of his feet landing flatly against the cooks mat on the tiles below. He was pink faced when he turned around to look at the man, still leaning on the counter, still waiting. 

            “Die? Isn’t that a bit…extreme?” The man said, there was the smallest of smiles on his face, like he was making a joke that only he found funny. He was watching Adam closely, his one eye trained on him.

            “No,” Adam said bluntly, “I’m in college. Dying is what I do best.” He gave a sarcastic laugh at that moment and put the smaller filter into the coffee pot, hitting the  _on_ button and listening for the familiar gurgling of water pushing its way through the coffee grinds. Adam put his hands in his apron pockets again, waiting. 

            “You should probably go to the shop down the street, you know? This might be a while.” Adam said quietly, staring down at his sneakers for a moment before turning around and finding himself looking at the back of the man’s head. He was watching out the window, watching the cars rush by in the snow, trying to beat the yellow light at the next intersection.

            “It’s okay, I’ll just wait." His voice sounded far away, "Plus you seem to have gotten it going pretty quickly.” He turned around, staring at Adam with one very blue eye. Adam gave a grin; he _had_ gotten it going pretty quickly, despite climbing on top of the counter and making a bit of a scene. Jillian was still nowhere in sight and there wasn’t anyone else in the shop besides Adam and this strange man. Adam scuffed at the marks on the floor with his shoe. The coffee pot gurgled and the slightest tinkling sound of coffee dripping down into the glass pot was heard in the background. The man continued to lean on the counter. Adam kept scuffing at the floor with his shoe, trying to remove those black rubber marks on the white tiled floor. 

            “How long have you been coming here?” Adam asked causally as he waited, still looking down at the floor, now scooting the cooks mat with his shoe.

            “I don’t know, couple of years I guess." He shrugged, "I didn’t like waiting in line at the big place down on the corner. This one seemed kinda out of the way.” He nodded to himself then, as if reaffirming his decision to himself. Adam nodded. 

            “I only started working the morning shift. I used to work at night.” Adam laughed slightly, wondering why he was telling this man, “I hate mornings.” He found himself fighting a yawn then as he said it. The man laughed, his mouth opening to show his teeth slightly: a white break in the sea of his beard. Adam squinted at him, watching him a little closer then before. 

            “Yeah, I noticed you were new. I thought maybe you were new altogether but…” he glanced around the shop then, lowering his voice to a harsh whisper, “…judging from how you keep that poor girl working ragged, you’re not new to running a tight ship.” Adam grinned at the man. He smiled back at Adam, inclining his head slightly. But Adam wasn't sure if he was just standing up or if the man was consciously watching him that closely. The coffee pot beeped, catching Adam off guard and pulling him away from his thoughts. He turned and grabbed a new cup, no sleeve, pouring the black liquid into the cardboard. It steamed happily away as he picked up a cap for it, sauntering over to the man, who was no longer leaning on the counter, now standing up-right, waiting a little less patiently then before. He drummed his fingers on the counter idly. 

            “Better?” Adam asked, tilting the cup to show him that there were no coffee grounds, no filter bits, no foam, just pure, black coffee with just enough room to spare. The man smiled, the grin slid across his face slowly, he took the cup from Adam and nodded, “Yeah...you know," the man turned to walk out, Adam listening as he spoke, "...you’re pretty good.” He tilted his head downwards in thanks, gave Adam a grin, and headed out the door. Adam didn't have a chance to respond. The man simply walked out of the shop. Adam watched him walk away into the winter chill and get into his double-parked truck. He started the engine, the headlights sparked to life and he pulled out onto Cathedral Street amid the beeping and skittering of smaller cars whizzing by. 

            It took Adam several moments to realize he was still holding the cap for the cup. 


	4. Navigating the Rush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam still hates mornings, there's a line for coffee, and just the slightest bit of information is exchanged.

            It had been the same every morning for a week. Adam got to work at 6:00 a.m., he served everyone perfectly, made for them whatever they wanted, and then waited for 7:25 a.m. He liked his regular customer. He liked dealing with him. It was always the same thing. Black truck pulls up, double parks, regular comes in, gets his coffee, they chit chat, and he leaves. Adam liked the routine. He liked the way this man came in and smiled and talked and was nice. It had been something Adam came to expect. This morning was different then the others had been thus far. The shop was packed full and there was an actual line to the door. It was 7:03 a.m. and Adam and Jillian both were working as fast as they could to get everyone in and everyone out. Jillian was slow though: too slow. She kept fumbling with the machine and Adam hated mistakes.

            “You keep over loading this, stop putting so much in it. If it happens again it could jam _permanently_.” He whispered to her, but his voice was cutting like sharp glass through soft skin. Jillian nodded, staying silent, eyes downcast after Adam turned away. Her face flushed with a light shade of pink, not that Adam noticed, really, even if he had it wouldn’t have changed anything. The line was still moving though, Adam was taking orders, people paying and then moving to the left to wait for their drink. It had gotten to such a state that he had to start asking for names on the cups. This was not a practice they often had to do, regardless of the time of day. 

            Eventually the line began to move quickly  and soon people began funneling out. Now with only a handful of customers waiting at various tables, and only two or three milling around the counter for pick-up, Jillian wasn’t as rushed. She must have panicked at the large number of people and the quickness of Adam’s response to that type of situation. The machine was no longer overloaded, Adam had seen to that, and Jillian had calmed down now that there weren’t so many people waiting on her every movement. Adam sighed as he wrote some names on cups, calling out orders and placing the finished ones on the exit counter with a curt, _Thank you_ or a _Have a nice day_. Sometimes he didn’t even say that, sometimes simply saying a name loudly and sharply placing the cup down on the counter. He didn’t even put sleeves on most of them, he hadn’t the time, he just let the customer pick from the bunch if they really wanted one. He didn’t listen to the responses of people receiving their drinks either; he simply went back to the register and the next customer.

            He pushed his way through the next few orders, the line getting shorter and shorter. People disappearing out the door as it became crunch time for getting to work or school or an internship. Looking up for a brief second Adam could see that the line was not building up so much as breaking down. At the very back there seemed to be the last person for this rush. He sighed as he cleaned off one of the espresso nozzles with a damp rag, worrying about the next order and then the next. Finally, the line had ebbed. Adam slammed the last cup down onto the counter for pick up, calling out the persons name and rushed over to the cash register to get the last order. He found himself so busy that he wasn't even watching the time. 

            “Good morning, what can I get you?” His voice was hurried and clipped. He didn’t look up; he was trying to find his permanent marker for the name on the cup. He could have sworn it had been in his apron pocket but it wasn’t there. He kept patting down his apron, only to ruffle it up to get to his jean pockets, but it wasn’t on him. His eyes did a quick glance around the counter top in front of him, but still no marker. He bit the inside of his mouth, drawing blood and cursing himself internally, his mind going in a million different directions at once. 

            “The usual.” Adam looked up from his moment of dismay, his neck snapping to attention. It was that same double-parking guy with the beard and the eye patch and an awkward grin, leaning casually on the counter. Adam sighed outwardly and loudly, rubbing his own face with both hands for a moment. He spoke through his fingers and for a moment he wasn’t worried about the marker.

            “You have no idea how glad I am to see you and your simple as shit order.” Adam chuckled as he lowered his hands from his face and turned to pour plain black coffee into a cup, with just enough room at the top. The man was digging in his pocket, looking for $2.15; he grunted his laughter at Adam’s commentary.

            “Been busting your ass all morning?” He asked as he fished the fifteen cents out of his back pocket with an ineloquent display of left to right foot shifting. Adam nodded as he poured, clicking the cap in place on top of the cup and reaching for a sleeve and remembering not to. That the coffee would cool in the cup holder, whatever that meant, as if the man didn’t drink it and drive. Adam turned as he answered, “It’s been awful. I’m exhausted.” He put the cup down on the counter, took the $2.15 and put it in the register. The man picked up the cup and turned it by its cap, scowling as he did so.

            “My name isn’t on it.” He said in that gruff tone he had. Adam looked up, mouth open; his eyes skittered between the cup and the man’s one blue eye looking directly at him.

            “I uh…didn’t think I had to put your name on it? There’s literally no one behind you and…uh…” Adam let his words trail off. The man chuckled.

            “…you don’t know my name so there’s your other complication.” The man’s voice was deep and dark when he spoke. But he was right. Adam didn’t know his name. Adam’s mouth shut with a clinking of his teeth; he gritted them together for several seconds before he answered.

            “Yeah, I don’t know your name. That’s…obviously a pretty big complication for putting it on the side of your cup.” Adam’s confidence was failing him now, his voice getting smaller, he was shrinking in on himself. Nevertheless, the man grinned at him, pushing his cup towards Adam with a single index finger, scooting the cup back across the counter slowly, “John.” He said. Adam opened his mouth to protest, there was no one behind the man, no one waiting. There was no arguing. No contest: the man knew this cup was his. Adam’s mouth was still a solid line; he reached down to the penholder in front of the cash register and grabbed a simple ballpoint pen. The marker was just gone now and he didn’t want to waste time looking for it.

            Adam picked up the cup, now very hot, and wrote, in his terrible, small, scrawling handwriting, ‘John’ on the side. Recapping his pen in silence, he pushed the cup back towards John across the counter. Adam silently mused to himself: this strange man who double-parked his truck illegally, had one eye, and was the easiest customer to deal with in the history of customers, also had the easiest name in the world. John smiled, picking up the cup and looking at it. Squinting slightly as he peered at the side of the cardboard. Adam shifted uncomfortably behind the counter.

            “Very small hand writing.” John remarked quietly and shot Adam a smirk. Adam’s mouth turned upwards into an awkward smile as he pocketed the pen.

            “No, I don’t really, I just have terrible handwriting so I try to conceal that fact by writing small.” Adam said, trying to make a joke at his own expense. He rolled his eyes slightly at what he'd said. But his eyes kept jumping from the man in front of him to the door and back down to the register. He didn't know why but he was nervous. John picked up the cup and headed to the door. As he just reached the glass doors, he said loudly to Adam, “Thanks.” But something in Adam wouldn’t let him resist, wouldn't let him stay quiet, wouldn't let it go. He bit his lip for a fraction of a second before blurting out, far too loudly, his voice wavering just so, just slightly, “Adam. My name’s Adam.” John stood in the halfway opened glass door, the sole of his shoe pushing against the door, opening it to the winter wind, which whistled as it was caught in the tiny opening. He gave Adam a curt nod. 

            “Thanks, Adam.” John turned and pushed the door open in its entirety and left, heading to his double-parked truck and driving off. Adam stood at the counter, biting his bottom lip. The time was 7:46 a.m. and he was already flustered beyond belief.

            He couldn’t force himself to entirely blame it on the customers.


	5. Friends in Far Away Places and Helpful Tips

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam goes home, speaks with his Self Esteem Team, and takes a well deserved sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was fiddling with the formatting for a while and I wasn't sure how something like this would be read and received, so I fretted a lot. I apologize. ANYWAY, here it is.

            Adam came in through his front door as quietly as he possibly could. That meant not stepping on any of the noisy floorboards, or pushing the door open too hard, or even jangling his keys. The last thing he wanted to do was catch his roommate’s attention. He shut the door behind him with the softest click; tip toeing back to his room. He walked down that tight corridor which had once led to some opulent one-room bedroom, but now led to two smaller rooms. One was larger the other and had enormous windows facing the street: it gave those lovely romantic nighttime city views.

            The other was very small; it could have been a closet, but was just large enough for his living purposes. His roommate’s door was shut and there was no sound emanating. Perhaps he wasn’t home. Adam opened the door to his own room and shut it quickly behind him, throwing his backpack on the floor at the base of the small bed. Everything was crunched up on top of everything else, it was clean and there was floor space, just not much of it. He had to fit his whole life, everything of importance to him, in this one small room. The bed was jammed against the far wall to make room for a bookshelf and the radiator on the other side. The windows were very small and high up, they only looked out onto the sky.

            He rubbed his face with the palms of his hands, his eyes dragging across the stack of books in the corner, remembering how much he needed to do before the end of the week. Adam sighed as he began to dig around in a pile of folded, clean clothes for his sweatpants. He immediately rid himself of his jeans as soon as he found the plain white sweatpants with the drawstring and settled himself on his bed with his laptop. He leaned back against the wall, propping his computer up in his lap, over his crossed legs. His bed was always made so neatly, it was always inviting. Adam checked the news briefly, skimming it for anything world changing or interesting. He checked his email, deleting most of it, as usual. He responded to one email from a professor inquiring about an outline. He leaned back against the white washed wall, a single pillow behind him. He felt himself yawning as he rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand, his messenger blinking at him furiously.

 

Daniller: How’s it going?

Ocelot_44: I’m so tired and my feet hurt and I’m cold and I need to do laundry.

Daniller: Is that all?

Ocelot_44: No, I’m sure I can think of other things to complain about. :^)

Daniller: I’m more than positive that you can, but you should tell me more about work...annnnd the dude you were telling me about. Anything new happen?  

 

           Adam smiled to himself, biting his bottom lip on instinct, his teeth latching onto it without his brains permission. He picked his laptop up with one hand and pulled the covers up around himself with the other. Placing the laptop back on his thighs, he put another pillow behind his back, against the wall, making it more comfortable to sit. His feet were sliding on the sheets of his bed; being cold they had no grip on the white linens. He shifted about some, making some friction on the sheets, creating some warmth and cuddling down into it. He sat back for a second and stared ahead of him, thinking about how this was all just a silly little fantasy. He hadn’t meant to drone on about it to Danil, hadn’t meant to fantasize out loud to his best friend. He only just found out John’s name several days earlier and nothing new or amazing had really happened besides idle small talk. He placed his fingers on the keyboard of his laptop, not sure what to say, not sure if he’d gotten himself in over his head in his own thoughts. As he typed, he bit his bottom lip again, sucking on it without really thinking about it.

 

Ocelot_44: Not anything too brand new. I know his name! It’s John. But that’s about it. :(

Daniller: That’s a good development, but so plain.

Ocelot_44: I know, right? But it kindaaaa suits him, soooo

Daniller: Nice, apple pie Americana man? You should give him your number. :P

 

           Adam rolled his eyes; he knew Danil would eventually suggest this, as though Adam hadn’t thought of it. He squinted at the screen, thinking about how to respond. Distantly he heard the front door opening with a loud thud as it hit the wall, making an intense impact, and then slamming shut again. There was a soft murmuring voice and a loud booming one: his roommate was home and with one addition. Adam sighed, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to roam around the apartment in peace now. He was glad he had already shut his door. He picked at the fuzz on his blanket, sighing to himself, glad he had the small coffee pot in his room.

 

Ocelot_44: I don’t know how I would do that. I’ve definitely been thinking about it, haha.

Daniller: Hmm…whats his MO?

Ocelot_44: MO?

Daniller: Yeah you know…his MO…his modus operandi. How does he take his coffee?

Ocelot_44: I pour him plain black coffee into a cup, now I put his name on the side, so that’s a nice addition, I hand it to him. Sometimes we have small talk. : \

Daniller: What about that sleeve thing?

Ocelot_44: Nope

Daniller: Why not?

Ocelot_44: I have no idea, I tried to give him one in the beginning, when I was first working that shift, and he told me that the coffee would cool in the cup holder?? So I guess he drives for a while to get to work or wherever he’s going with it. I didn’t ask.

 

           Danil fell silent for some time. Adam watched the text box closely, watching how Danil would begin typing and then stop. The stuttering and starting was irritating to watch. Adam pulled up his browser and flicked through the internet, browsing various links as they rolled by on the screen, waiting for Danil to respond. Adam could hear his roommate vividly now, laughing far too loudly in the living room. Whoever was with him was becoming louder as well, obviously spurred onward by the others volume. Adam rolled his eyes and prayed to whatever would listen that his roommate and the friend would leave.

 

Daniller: I’m thinking…sorry

Ocelot_44: I figured

Daniller: I’m thinking about…how you could give him your number….do you give him a receipt or anything?

Ocelot_44: No, he pays in cash and it’s always been straightforward. So I just throw the receipt in the trash.

Daniller: Hmm

Ocelot_44: It doesn’t really matter…I’m kind of getting ahead of myself.

Daniller: OH. I have a good idea.

Ocelot_44: ????

Daniller: Why don’t you just write your number on the cup, now that you’re writing his name on it?

Ocelot_44: Ha! How did I not think of that? But I shouldn’t do it! He might think its weird. :\  

Daniller: It’s not weird. You just spent the last night telling me about this guy. You should do it, you never know.

 

             Adam bit his thumb once more. Mulling the idea over in his head. Danil did give him a good plan; he could take that next step. But it was a scary thought. He stared at the messenger box, running his tongue over his teeth. What if John didn’t contact him, then he’d have to see the man every morning and know that he had never taken Adam up on it. What if it ruins the dynamic? He liked seeing John every morning. It was part of the routine he’d come to expect and had come to like, a great deal. Adam found himself jiggling his foot under the blanket, thinking at top speed. 

 

Daniller: You still there?

Ocelot_44: Yeah, sorry. I was thinking.

Daniller: Well, look, don’t do it if you’re uncomfortable.

Ocelot_44: I don’t know. I don’t want to ruin what I have, that sounds really stupid cause I don’t really have anything, but…I don’t want him to stop coming in or something, you know?

Daniller: Yeah, I get that. You should think about it, but I do think that’s really the best plan of action. You can maybe talk to your favorite customer /not/ as a customer. :p

Ocelot_44: That’d be nice

Daniller: OH JOHN~

Ocelot_44: Urggg I hate you, shut up :^)

Daniller: Hahahah

 

            The rest of the night passed uneventfully. Danil finally signing off and going to bed enabled Adam to sort of, begrudgingly, begin reading for school. He lay in his bed with the book propped open on his knees, but he was exhausted, his eyes kept closing on him. Eventually, admitting defeat, he simply curled up in his bed at 8:58 p.m. and fell asleep under his multitude of blankets. It didn’t take long for his breathing to slow and his body to give in to that twilight space between wakefulness and sound sleep.

            He dreamt about writing on the side of that cup. In the safety of his mind John took it with no questions, smiling as he did so, that wonderful slow grin he had hidden under his beard. It wasn’t the first time Adam had dreamt of work or John. It certainly wouldn’t be the last.


	6. The Worrying and the Waiting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Adam worries. It's snowing quite intensely, John is late, and Adam makes good use of his friends great plan.

            Winter had not stopped its brutal onslaught in the night. Come morning, the sidewalks and streets hadn’t been cleared properly. Adam had slept soundly through it all, into 6:04 a.m. He had just enough time to see the first pink rays of sunlight come through his bedroom windows. He opened his eyes very slowly, but found himself waking up naturally instead of with his alarm. Nevertheless, mornings were entirely unpleasant, regardless of how much sleep he had. Adam woke up slowly. His feet touched the cold floor and he suddenly wished he could crawl back under that warm blanket pile. Running through his usual morning routine wasn’t as bad as always. He brushed his teeth, he got dressed, he made his bed, and he grabbed his backpack: he was out the door in twenty minutes flat. But his hat didn’t keep out the wind and neither did his gloves or his jacket. He walked down the sidewalk hunched over. Attempting to avoid snow piles and ice.

            The cars went past him slowly and carefully. The roads hadn’t been plowed very well; some of them still had a thin layer of slush and ice. He wasn’t too bothered with the weather, he’d seen worse. He simply walked to work, his mind on a different subject: he and Danil’s conversation. Danil had given him a great idea, this was true, but Adam gnawed on the inside of his cheek out of anxiety. His gloved hands were warm and sweaty in his pockets now as he thought about writing his number on the cup. He reached work well enough and in one piece, which had to be a miracle of some sort. He unlocked the door swiftly and slid inside, twisting the lock in place behind him before making a beeline for the back room.

            “Hi Adam!” Jillian’s sing song tone drifted through the shop, she always had that cheerful demeanor, despite the time of day. Adam winced, his shoes squeaking on the floor.

            “Hi.” He pulled his mouth into a tight smile as he kept on walking, passing the register and heading for his locker. Opening it quickly, he took his backpack off and put it inside, taking his apron out. Reaching into his backpack, he put his cell phone in his jean pocket. He liked to watch the clock closely. He simply closed the locker quietly, finding himself lost in his own head for a moment. The latch caught softly and clicked shut with a metal _clink_. Faintly he could hear Jillian out in the kitchen, she was running hot water, there was the sound of the espresso machine heating up, and coffee beans being ground into oblivion.

            Adam slowly tied his apron on. He looked down at his shoes while he did so, teetering on the balls of his feet, trying to tie his apron around his neck. Listening to Jillian working in the kitchen, his mind again drifting off to what Danil had said. He had thought about it, but he was unsure if this was really a good idea. In truth, he didn’t really know John very well. All he knew was what John told him in the small conversations they had while they were separated by that counter and held at a distance by their economic exchange.

             Finally, getting the apron tied around his neck he brought the back straps around his middle so he could tie them in the front: this was easiest. Sighing, Adam ran a hand through his hair, smoothing it down for a moment before it shot back up again defiantly. He moved out into the kitchen. Jillian was sweeping now, moving tables about and picking up trash as she went. Adam wasn’t really present. He just couldn’t stop his brain from running in a million directions. He was quieter and slower then usual, his hands seemed to drag on everything and he kept missing spots while cleaning the counter. His mind kept wandering, thinking about how maybe this wasn’t a good idea. Shaking himself out of his thoughts, he tried to keep his mind on what he was doing. Jillian yelled that she was taking the trash out, as she walked by toting one large black, plastic trash bag behind her, the keys to the backdoor in her hand. Adam nodded and checked the clock: it was almost time to open the door.

            Once Jillian was out of sight he let himself go still and stared straight ahead at the counter. He bit his bottom lip, trying desperately to think of what Danil would tell him if he was here. The shop was eerily quiet. He shook himself from his reverie, he knew this was stupid: either do it, or don’t do it, don’t waffle, don’t be so indecisive. He bit his lip again, worrying it between his teeth. The back door opened, signaling Jillian’s inevitable return, she whistled as she walked down the hall. Adam went back to wiping the counter, distracted once more. Contrary to the usual morning ritual, Adam was too preoccupied with his own thoughts to give crisp orders to Jillian. She still gave the register up to Adam, as she turned the sign on the front door, and the first few people streamed in.

            It was slow this morning. One customer reporting that the roads were, “something awful” and another saying that they should have shut the city down entirely. Adam was beginning to worry when the third report was overheard as he was wiping the espresso machine down. A woman who was on her way in was informing a man who was on his way out, that the city was having difficulty finding a place for all the piled up snow, that they were resorting to pushing it into the harbor.

            The time was 7:27 a.m. and Adam was feeling relieved, maybe John got off work this morning, maybe he didn’t go in at all. Maybe he couldn’t even get out of his house. Adam slammed someone’s coffee down with a resounding _clink_ as the base of the cup hit the counter. They took it quickly, grunting a stiff ‘thank you’. Adam didn’t care. He was wrapped up in his head, his eyes skittering out to the street at every chance he got. He kept trying to shake himself out of it, kept trying to tell himself how stupid all this was. Blaming Danil entirely for this mess he was in now, he turned on more hot water and dumped two dirty rags in the sink. Spreading them out on the metal divide between the two basins, letting the hot water clean out the fabric. Looking up at the clock he saw that it was now 7:39 a.m. Staring down at the dirty rags in the sink, he felt that tense knot in his stomach at not being able to complete his mission. He turned the water off and scooted the rags about on the metal divide for a minute, just wanting them to be even. He hated the way Jillian just dumped the rags in and let them lay there in their own filth.

            A woman cleared her throat at the counter, snapping Adam out of his thoughts at the sink. Turning on his heel sharply he came around to the register, a forced smile painted on his features. Only making the barest amounts of eye contact with the woman as he punched in her order and searched for his marker, writing her name on the side of her cup. He was pouring her espresso shot when he looked up to the large plate glass window. He sighed, watching the snow coming down. He popped the cap onto the cup and slid a sleeve on the outside of it, placing the finished drink gently down onto the counter. The woman took it carefully, her words of thanks being lost in her blue scarf as she turned to leave. Adam pulled his cell phone out of his pocket for a moment and glanced at the time, 7:48 a.m. Slipping his phone back into his pocket, he walked over to the fridge to check the dairy supplies.

            With his back turned to the register he only vaguely heard the glass door swing open. The soft _woosh_ sound was coupled with the muffled noises of people passing one another. Adam stood up, pushing his sleeve up and pulling his pen from his apron. He wrote down what he should get from the freezer on his arm, as he had no paper. He muttered to himself for a moment, staring at his marked skin, counting in his head how much of which thing he should bring out. Debating whether he should at all since the snow was picking up again.

            “Kinda shocked you all aren’t closed this morning.” Adam turned around and looked up at the source of that gravelly voice. His throat went dry and he rolled his sleeve down quickly, trying to cover the ink on his arm.

            “Hi...uh…yeah,” He took two steps towards the register, “we don’t really close unless the city shuts down.” Chuckling slightly, he punched in the usual amount with one hand and grabbed a cup with the other. John pulled out the usual $2.15 and placed it on the counter, bouncing slightly on one foot to get the change out of the recesses of his pocket.

            “It’s really bad out.” John turned around and looked back out the large windows, the headlights of his truck cutting through the oncoming snow.

            “Its been getting worse, this morning wasn’t too bad but now it’s piling up again pretty quickly.” Adam’s hand had stilled on John’s cup. He still hadn’t poured the coffee.

            “Well, I still have to go to work, so…” John smiled at Adam, tilting his head towards the coffee cup.

            “Shit, yeah. Sorry.” Adam gritted his teeth, his voice almost a whisper, he turned to the coffee pot behind him. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw John leaning against the counter, looking out the window. Adam dipped his hand into his apron and got his marker. He held the cup in one hand and hovered that black tipped marker above the cup for a fraction of a second. He took a breath and ran his tongue over his teeth. Putting that pen to the cardboard and scrawling his phone number on it and his name. He could feel his face tingling out of nerves, but he pushed through it. He put the cup down with a decisive _clink_ and poured coffee in, trying desperately to remain nonchalant. His hands were cold.

            Turning around to grab a lid for the cup, he saw two people streaming in behind John. He fitted the lid on and quickly grabbed a sleeve, placing it on afterwards, covering the scrawled number written on the side of the cup, hoping John wouldn’t say anything.

            “Here you go.” He handed the cup to John then and smiled at him, almost pushing the cup into John’s hands.

            “Why the sleeve?” John stood in front of Adam, asking him in a low, dark voice. Adam gulped slightly and blinked one too many times. He didn’t want John to remove the sleeve here.

            “Sorry, I-” Adam said quietly, but John had already started to take the sleeve off, “No!” Adam’s hand almost shot out to intercept, but he ran it through his hair nervously instead, “Look, it’s…it’s really cold out, just leave it on till you get to your car?” Adam licked his bottom lip. John squinted at Adam and shifted slowly from one foot to the other; the people in line behind him obviously becoming impatient.

            “It is cold out,” John stared at Adam a bit too long, his gaze roving over Adam’s features for a moment. Adam nodded and smiled; trying to lighten the moment, hoping John did take the sleeve off.

            “Alright, well…thanks for looking out for my coffees well being.” John smiled and chuckled as he spoke.

            “It’s just, whats the point if it’s cold, you know?” Adam shrugged and said as he gave a soft huff of a laugh.

            “Yeah, no point in that.” John smiled, nodding to Adam then, as he finally turned to leave. The next customer stepped up to the register and John walked out the door. Everything the next person said was slightly muted, Adam heard them but his eyes weren’t on them; he wasn’t really listening. He was watching John walk to his truck, the way his head was tucked down into his black coat and the snow was clinging to his beard. Adam rang up the customer and wrote their name on the cup as he watched John’s truck pull away down the road.

            It wasn’t long before the flow of customers ceased altogether and Adam had a minute to himself. He pulled out his cell phone, ignoring his emails and went for his texts. Pulling up Danil’s message from the night before, Adam quickly typed with his thumb, ' _The mission was a success_.' He put his phone back in his pocket and sighed. Knowing that now he just had to wait.


	7. The Snowstorm and the Reward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The city has a snowstorm, Adam takes a shower, and gets a reward for all his fretting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The numbers during the texting sequence are representative of phone numbers. 443 and 410 are area codes. I did not put real phone numbers for obvious reasons. 
> 
> Also, please be advised, this chapter has some light sexual content. Nothing earth shattering!
> 
> Thanks.

            Work was closed that morning. Classes had been cancelled. Roads were shut down and the harbor was being used as an excess snow depository. The city had been declared a state of emergency. Adam had come home from work the night before trudging through six inches of snow and biting wind. Crossing streets had suddenly become exponentially more dangerous. As the streetlights were out and the traffic signals were endlessly blinking yellow and no one was watching for pedestrians anyway.

             Adam had observed from the window all morning, from his living room perch, as police cars went by with their lights going, their tires making that amazing crinkling sound in the snow. On the snow-covered sidewalks, a few people on foot braved the cold, for whatever purpose. He had spent all day sitting by the window with a book in his lap, his coffee next to him, and his mind elsewhere, listening to the sounds of snow and ice bouncing off of the manmade world around him. At 4:47 p.m. he’d reached for his cell phone for the millionth time that day. No new messages. Before resigning himself to a shower, he felt as though all his worrying had been for nothing.

            However, safe in his bathroom, far away from winter’s cold grasp, the steam from the shower was building up in the tiny white room. The white subway tiles of the shower were slick from the hot water. Adam was standing in front of the sink, running his hand over the mirror in a makeshift-defogging attempt. He sighed, noticing the bags under his eyes, glad that work would be closed for at least another day; maybe he could catch up on sleep.  

            Opening the glass door on its metal track, he got in the shower; the water hissing angrily as it pummeled through the showerhead. He was desperate to keep his mind off of the weather, his shitty job, school, and his recent dare in giving a customer his phone number. He ran his hands across his scalp, spreading peppermint-scented shampoo through his blonde hair. He stood idly in the water for a minute, eyes closed, letting the heat rush over his tired form. The shampoo now out of his hair and his shower smelling entirely too much like peppermint, he wiped the water from his eyes and grabbed his soap.

            Standing in the hot water, he wished he had access to a bathtub. He missed having a tub. Showers were nice, but baths were better. Adam could lose himself in a bath, in a shower everything just felt routine, clinical, sterile. He stood rooted to the spot, listening to the way water bounced off of the tiled walls. Rolling the bar of soap repeatedly to gather the suds, he ran his hands over himself. The water still catching in his hair as his hands went to clean between his legs, fingers ghosting over soft untouched skin. He felt that sudden recognizable warmth creeping up his most vital parts. Staring down at his quickly growing self and seeing, as he hadn’t in a while, now seemed as good a time as any. Brow furrowed, he took himself in his palm and leaned his forehead against the tiles of the shower. He closed his eyes. Rapidly moving his hand in time to the beat he preferred, twisting his wrist here and there, fingers gripping tighter at certain known sweet spots. He was simply looking for release; there was no need to prolong this. His right hand busying itself between his legs, gripping and sliding heatedly, he knew this puzzle well. His left hand griped the wall fruitlessly, in search of something to hold onto; he had started to sweat, only to have it washed right away by the torrent of hot water.

           Small hushed sounds escaped his mouth as he quickly ramped up to his release; he craned his head back and squinted his eyes shut even tighter, biting his tongue as the tip of it stuck out between his open lips. For a split harrowing second his feverish mind wanted to pretend his hand was someone else’s, but he swiftly banished that thought with a tight murmur to himself and a slight shake of his head. He pressed his forehead against the tiled wall once more. It wasn’t long before he was moving his hips in time to this desperate beat he’d created and fighting back groans. Panting now that the familiar feeling pooling up inside of him was very real. His breathing was ragged and his hand was moving wilder, more urgently. Listening to the water sloshing off of his movements, he prayed to whatever would listen that he didn’t slip in the shower; his leg twitched, his toes losing their grip on the tiled floor.

           He kept moving faster and faster, tiny sounds kept gushing from his mouth without his permission, his feet and his back arching against his will. Finally he let out a deep groan, his cheek pressed to the warm tiled wall of the shower as he collapsed against it, finishing in his own hand, everything being washed off in the same breath and flowing down the drain. It only took him a minute or so to recuperate. He leaned against the wall of the shower, the water steadily beating down on him still, his body returning to its normal state.

           He rinsed himself off, his breathing returning to normal as he came down from his self appointed high. Standing for only a few seconds more before turning the knob and stepping out onto the carefully laid towel on the floor. He dried himself off quickly, wrapping the towel around his hips; he pushed his ear to the bathroom door, listening for anything that would indicate his roommate’s presence. He heard nothing. Opening the door he walked to his room in one, two, three steps, and promptly shut the bedroom door behind him.

           The table lamp was already on in the small bedroom and Adam let his towel fall to the floor in a crumpled heap as soon as he was safely inside. He dug through the pile of clothes. Finding his sweatpants and a t-shirt, he slipped them on quickly, sans underwear. He dug into the pile farther to find socks, they didn’t match, but they were socks and they were clean. The sun was down now and he could see the snow being blown off of the neighbor’s roof, the light from the street lamps illuminating its graceful fall to the ground. He shut the drawer with a significant _clunk_ and crawled onto his bed, pulling the blankets down and crawling under them. Pushing his pillows up against the wall, leaning on them for support. The sheets were cold as he slid into them, grateful for his mismatched socked feet; moving his feet around on the sheets, shifting them back and forth rapidly, trying to create warmth in the blankets.

           Leaning over to his nightstand, barely reaching without displacing his pillows. Eventually his fingertips just grazed the edge of his phone and he was able to drag it closer to him. Picking it up with a relieved sigh. He stared at the blank black screen for a moment. Repeating the same mantra in his head that he had been thinking since writing his number on that cup, _John’s not going to contact you; this was all a wasted effort._ In his mind it seemed a better idea to let himself down on his own then be let down by outside forces. Biting his thumb, he looked around his room for a moment, trying to tell himself not to check his phone for the umpteenth time that day. His eyes were darting between the phone screen and the window and his lamp and the door, his right foot bouncing under the sheets indolently, making just the slightest movement. He inhaled a breath and clicked his teeth together, realizing he couldn’t resist checking his phone for the rest of the night. It would drive him out of his mind.

          His thumb tapped the power button, but not with enough pressure to turn the phone on. Biting the inside of his cheek, he realized that his good time in the shower hadn’t done anything to calm his nerves. Closing his eyes, he finally pressed the power button, but with more resolve this time, the phone clicked to life. He swiped his thumb to the right instinctually, knowing all the sounds and movements by heart. Slowly, he opened his eyes. Looking down at his phone screen through squinted, anxious vision he saw it: exactly one little red bubble indicator above his texting icon. His mouth became a straight, tight line.

          He tapped the icon with his finger quickly, the message popping up, one with a blue indicator next to it: it was unread, the number unknown, no contact assigned. A simple four-one-zero area code number and small grey text under it. Adam hit the message quickly. His eyes scanned it, reading it out loud to himself, in disbelief. He dropped the phone on the bed, as though it were hot. He was grinning widely from ear to ear as he picked his phone back up and read and reread the message, looking at the time, it had been sent recently.

 

_(410): My coffee stayed warm._

 

            Adam stared at it for longer then was appropriate, he was sure. He kept looking away; his eyes kept scurrying to his window and then back to his phone, muttering to himself, unsure how to respond. He had been so busy preparing never to hear from John, that now he was an absolute nervous wreck. He opened the message again and tilted his screen so he could type.

 

_(443): Told you it was cold out_

 

            He hit send and waited. By this point in his excitement he had sat up, crossing his legs under the blankets, and was gnawing desperately on his left hand thumb. His right foot twirled idly, he was oblivious to it though.

 

_(410): Yeah it was, I was glad I had the sleeve._

_(443): See? They have their purposes. Good thing I’m the best…coffee-erer?_

_(410): Barista?_

_(443): Yeah there we go, that thing._

           

            Adam realized he was texting more confidently then he felt. He started to linger over each word, his thumbs moving slower over the screens keyboard. _No need to seem eager_ , he thought as he smiled to himself. The sky outside of his window darkened quickly. The snow fell faster, heavier, but he was warm and safe in his bed. He just wanted to know about John. But he was unsure whether John would readily come forward with any information, regardless of being asked or not. He seemed to be a tough nut to crack, someone hard to talk to. He might not even tell Adam anything, even if Adam asked outright.

 

_(443): How far do you have to drive every morning?_

_(410): 20 minutes with traffic._

_(443): Oh, so it’s not that far. What do you do?_

_(410): I work for CSX._

_(443): CSX?_

_(410): Train company._

_(443): That’s so wild west of you. Do you conduct trains!?_

_(410): Wild west? Nah, I don’t conduct trains._

_(443): Yeah you know how all the westerns focus on trains and train tracks and how the train is coming through town and all that._

_(410): Ahh I see, you like westerns?_

_(443): A little, yeah._

 

            It was hard to stop himself from gushing about how he loved all of them. Every single TV show, the new movies and the old ones. How all the modern TV shows had mentions of trains in them. The train was the life’s blood of the entire town in almost every western TV show or movie he’d ever watched. The sound of that train whistle permeated his thoughts. It was in almost every single thing he’d ever seen or heard. It was a staple of westerns. Now Adam found himself building a picture in his mind about John as a person. He tapped his fingers on the edge of his phone, waiting for John. His foot was still twirling endlessly under the sheets.

 

_(410): Only a little?_

_(443): Maybe! So what do you do for the trains?_

_(410): Do for them?_

_(443): Haha, like what do you do for CSX?_

_(410): Oh, ha, I work in transportation._

_(443): That sounds kind of boring._

_(410): It can be._

_(443): What exactly do you do?_

_(410): I oversee the yard and make sure departures and arrivals go smoothly._

_(443): That sounds incredibly dry._

_(410): It’s not so bad._

           

            John and Adam exchanged information into the night. Adam lost track of time after the first few minutes. Settling back into his pillows, pulling his blankets up around himself as the snow tumbled down. The sky had become black and the only light was the glowing sheen of orange from the city lights. The night ticked on and soon Adam was yawning, he looked at the time on his phone and sighed. Realizing he had thoroughly ignored all homework, all responsibilities, and any other communication with anyone else on the planet all night. A part of him felt bad for not keeping Danil up to speed, but another part of him didn’t care in the slightest. The apathetic side won.

 

_(410): It’s late and I have to go to work tomorrow_

_(443): Even though it’s snowing?_

_(410): Even though it’s snowing._

_(443): My work is closed. Yaaay._

_(410): I figured. Just have to make my coffee in the morning._

_(443): Worst_

_(410): Yeah, lots of effort_

_(443): Is it okay if I put you in my phone?_

_(410): As a contact?_

_(443): Yes? How else?_

_(410): Oh yeah, sure._

_(443): No, wait. How else did you think I’d put you in my phone?_

_(410): I don’t know. I was just confused for a minute._

_(443): OKAY, haha. There, now you’re in my phone._

_John: I added you to mine. Now you’re Adam instead of your number._

_Adam: I’m really Adamska. But Adam will do._

_John: Adamska?_

_Adam: Yeah, Adam for short, but you should go to bed since you have to work._

_John: Okay, Adam for short._

_Adam: You’re not witty._

_John: Night_

_Adam: Byeeee_

 

            He scrolled up through the conversation, reading and rereading through what had been said. Biting his lip as he went, scooting himself further down into his blankets, pushing into his pillows as his eyes glazed over at the scrolling text: green, blue, green, blue, green, blue, text bubbles going by with the flick of his thumb. The snow continued to come down, but the outside world had effectively disappeared.

 

            It was 9:46 p.m. and he was trying not to feel giddy, but it was quite difficult.


	8. Developments and Power Issues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The weather turns into bullshit, Adam is distracted, and John drives in the snow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be the beginning of the next chapter, but I realized when I put them together it would have been way too long. So I'll post this as Chapter 8 and then when I'm done with the next it'll be Chapter 9. Sorry about any confusion. Thanks for putting up with my horrendous update schedule.

            That giddy feeling had stayed with Adam well into the next day, where he spent the majority of his time replying to John’s texts and trying not to smile too broadly. He made a futile attempt to do his homework, went so far as to put his phone down and force himself to read at least ten pages, but that was fruitless. He just couldn’t pry his phone out of his own grasp. He couldn’t stop his eyes from bouncing to the screen as every couple of words in the book went sliding by unregistered. Sitting on his bed all day, book next to him, pen laying forgotten between pages, notes scattered on the floor, they might as well have been thrown to the wind: Adams mind was elsewhere.

            Being constantly distracted was a quickly developing condition. Doing homework was now a genuine struggle, paying attention in class was difficult, and being at work was only bearable because he got to see John every morning. Their morning ritual had now evolved into small jokes being written on the side of the cup, instead of simply John’s name. Stick figures here and there, little drawings of cats, one morning a quick picture of a train engine, followed closely with John’s low, gravely commentary that, ‘engines don’t look like that anymore.’ Adam had rolled his eyes and curtly informed John that he’d be late if he tried to give any more history lessons. John had grinned and walked out the door. Adam’s gaze following him from under long eye lashes.

            Now that Adam had someone besides Danil to talk to, and within his own time zone, he spent an inordinate amount of his days sitting on his bed texting. Today he had changed his pattern; he was sitting on the window seat in the living room, pressed against the large glass window. Legs crossed, book and pen in his lap; he wasn’t doing homework so much as responding to John every two minutes. He marveled at what a slow responder John was. Sitting on the burgundy cushion of the window seat, his left knee cold from pressing against the window, he sat in a self-induced silence. The traffic below him could be heard. Cars whirring by on the road, the sounds of slushy melted snow splashing up as tires went racing through it, turning white into grey.

            Adam looked out the window, resting his phone precariously on his knee, waiting for a response. The weather had changed and it was snowing again, thus his class had been cut short. He never thought he’d say it, but Adam was getting tired of winter. He sighed, his warm breath fogging up the cold window momentarily. He was watching the people below on the sidewalk when the lights went out. The refrigerator made a deep thrumming sound, the radiator clicked once and then failed to do so again, and the real silence descended, the apartment was now devoid of the constant electrical hum. He could still see, sort of, the sun was setting though and he knew his phone would not last the night. Blinking into the dimming light of his apartment and picking up his phone, he texted John.

_Adam: Soooo my powers out, along with the heat. Hooray._

_John: Do you have a fireplace?_

_Adam: No. : ^(_

_John: Anywhere to go?_

           Glancing around the swiftly darkening living room and kitchen, Adam realized he really didn’t have anywhere else to go. For a split second, he thought about going to a hotel, but he knew he couldn’t afford that, not any of the hotels within walking distance anyway. He didn’t have any friends or family he could stay with: he was alone. Adam ran his tongue over his teeth as he thought. He gripped his phone tightly in his hands, his foot bounced against the burgundy cushion under him.

            _Adam: No, luckily for me, the Ikea couch is probably flammable._

_John: Without a fireplace I wouldn’t suggest that._

            _Adam: I have a lot of blankets. I’m sure I’ll be fine._

            But he wasn’t sure if he’d be fine. He also soon realized that to conserve his phone’s battery he should probably stop texting John. That was very difficult though. He sat quietly, biting his bottom lip, his eyes adjusting to the darkness, his ears still searching for that ever-present electrical hum that was now gone. It felt eerie, wrong, and unnatural. Adam was trying to remember if he had any long underwear, attempting to mentally count the pairs of socks he had, when his phone vibrated again.

            _John: Where do you live?_

Adam blinked at his phone, his breath catching in his throat. Not sure how to answer, or if he even should answer. He deliberated with himself for several minutes, but then found himself telling John. That feeling in his gut telling him it was safe. He texted his address and he found that he didn’t have any reservations about it, this man who had started out a customer and was now on the other end of his phone line. There were no red flags going off. No alarm bells had sounded at any time during his many conversations with John. Adam gave a soft laugh, half hearted, wondering if he was moving too fast, if this was wrong, or if it was right. His heart rate was going up, he could feel his face flushing as he stared at his address typed out on the screen in front of him, waiting for a reply.

            _John: I’ll be there in 20 minutes._

_Adam: But what if your power goes out! Then we’ll both freeze to death, haha._

_John: I have a generator._

_Adam: Oh, that’s probably a better idea then burning the couch for warmth._

_John: Probably._

            Adam tucked his legs to his chest, wrapping his arms around them quickly, burying his face into his knees. He was grinning from ear to ear, but he would only allow himself this for a few brief seconds before closing his book and gathering his phone, pen, and notes. He walked off to his room, it was already chilly and the darkness was enveloping the apartment. The wooden floors were freezing through his socks and he could feel the wind coming in from the thin glass of the cheap windows. He changed out of his sweatpants, the cold air biting his skin as he threw them onto his bed. He got into his jeans and put on a clean t-shirt, pulling his sweatshirt on overtop. Grabbing his backpack and his keys. Throwing his phones charging cable in the bag and not bothering to take anything else, figuring the clothes on his back would be enough. He went out to the kitchen, guided by his cell phones flashlight. He debated leaving a note for his roommate, only to decide against it at the last minute and instead texted Danil. Adam knew Danil was asleep but he figured it would be best to tell someone where he was going. He joked that Danil would be the only person to know what happened to him if he was killed. He laughed at his own joke while he texted, but then deleted it, as he was afraid he might jinx himself.

            Adam turned and went out his front door, letting it fall shut soundly behind him, the automatic lock clicking into place. The hallway was pitch black, the wood floors creaked ominously in the cold; he could hear the wind clearly outside now. He walked down the stairs one at a time, careful not to fall; reaching the first floor, he waited silently by the security door, his phone idle in his pocket. Outside, the wind was blowing fiercely. The trees in their planters were shifting silently, their limbs moving in time to a ceaseless rhythm. People were holding their scarves around their faces, their hats to their heads, their gloved hands pushed deep into pockets. Adam stood in the doorway, his hands in the pocket of his sweatshirt. He had no hat on, no gloves, only his sneakers, jeans, and his sweatshirt.

            He was left alone with his thoughts in the doorway, debating if he shouldn’t just try and find a hotel. He scuffed at the old tiled floor in the entry way with his shoe, whatever was caked onto the tile wasn’t coming off: it was an old stain. He sighed and kept biting the inside of his lip, still rationalizing if this was a bad idea. If he wasn’t pushing his luck, maybe pushing the entire envelope taking John up on this offer. He twiddled with his phone in his sweatshirt pouch. Leaning forward against the glass of the security door, he cupped his hands around his eyes on the glass, trying to see. The whole street was just solid darkness now. Sighing to himself, leaning back against the frame of the wooden archway, waiting as patiently as his nerves would allow. He stared off into the night outside the door; it was getting colder in the building now. He reached behind his head and pulled his hood up, hoping it might preserve some body heat. Car headlights had come and gone up the road for the past two minutes. Some of them fast, some slow, one was a city owned plow, attempting to spread salt. Adam was relieved though when a pair of white headlights pulled up along the curb out front and flashed.

            Drawing in a breath and pulling his hood up around his face, he pushed open the security door. He hopped down the stairs and headed for the same black truck he’d seen pull up outside the coffee shop every morning for close to a month. He went to the passenger side door and opened it and was greeted with warmth. Immediately slamming the door behind him before waving to John, trying to look comfortable and relaxed.

           “Hi.” Adam said quickly, pulling his hood down, his eyes scanning the dash for the seat heater button. He found it and turned it on, leaning back to buckle his seat belt.

           “Comfortable?” John said in his gravelly voice, Adam simply nodded. John hit his right hand blinker and pulled back into the road, the snow crunching under the tires of the truck, the engine surged forward through the snow. Adam turned around and looked into the backseat, it was a mess. Papers everywhere, some boxes, parts for some kind of machine, there were tools scattered on the seat behind John’s, an empty soda bottle rolled around aimlessly on the floor. Adam made a face.

           “This monstrosity is a complete mess.” He said as he tucked his feet up under himself, perched in the large, warm, leather seat. John made a left onto a main road.

           “Yeah, I should probably clean it.” Adam nodded in agreement. The radio was playing something awful and old. Something Adam didn’t like at all.

           “Is this your iPod?” He asked, opening the center console, making John move his arm as he did so. He was looking for an MP3 player of any kind, moving some smaller pieces of paper around. He dragged his fingers across some empty CD cases that still had the plastic wrap and the stickers on them, as though someone had just ripped them apart to get out what they needed inside. John chuckled.

           “I don’t have an iPod, it’s just the radio.” Adam shut the center console and John put his elbow back down, he didn’t use the fold down armrest it would seem. Adam nodded, his eyes still scanning through the truck. He liked being in John’s world. After all this time spent texting John and getting to know him better, it felt natural being this close to him and so deeply imbedded in his personal life.

          “Well, this is a terrible song.” John’s face cracked into a smile.

          “Is it? You can change it, if you want to. I wasn’t really listening.” Adam did. Leaning forward he started pushing buttons on the radio, picking something he wanted to hear, or at least something that was better than that horrible noise. He finally found something agreeable and leaned back into his seat; it was very warm now. Adam stared out the window, watching the snow-covered city go by, glad John came to get him in this huge truck. The snow just moved out of the way, the truck didn’t slip, it didn’t slide, and it simply cut through the winter landscape like a hot knife through butter. It was comforting: it felt safe, all of it, the truck, being so close to John.

          “Do you regret coming to get me yet?” Adam asked as he turned to face John, “Since I’ve inspected your truck, changed your radio, and gone through your little storage thing here.” He tapped the center console with his index finger. John sped up a little as he drove under a yellow light and into the next intersection. He drew in a breath through his nose and turned the wheel to the left, taking the truck onto Pratt Street, around the Inner Harbor.

         “Nope.” He said simply, Adam bit his lip and turned his head again to look at the USS Constellation that was docked in the harbor. The ships masts just visible over the low building in front of it, Adam noticed that the ship looked really nice in the falling snow. He always did like the way winter looked from the safety of a warm place.


	9. The Western Movies and the Misunderstanding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam snoops through John's stuff, there's a misunderstanding, and Adam falls asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going to bleed directly over into the next chapter. I didnt want to post all of this for one chapter. I didnt want to ask you all to read that much in one go, as that would have been INSANE. So next chapter, more good things happen, this I promise you. 
> 
> Thank you all for being fresh, very supportive, and, most of all, patient.

             John turned the wheel to the right and drove down a tight alleyway. Adam was convinced they were going to hit the brick wall running along to the left. When they didn’t, he released a sigh and relaxed, but only until the trucks headlights grazed the concrete wall of a parking spot. It was a squeeze driving down the alleyway, but watching John trying to park that black behemoth into that spot was even more nerve wracking. Adam’s nails were sunk into the leather of the heated seat, his knees drawn up to his chest, his eyes closed, waiting for that jarring impact. The vehicle came to a standstill, Adam’s eyes were held tightly shut, and there was no jarring impact.

            “You alright?” John said as Adam opened one eye, his face grimacing, as if expecting the front of the truck to be buried in the far wall.

            “I thought we were going to hit the wall.” He said, opening both eyes and perking up in his seat. John wrinkled his brow, a smirk beginning to cross his features as he turned the engine off: the rumble coming to a standstill, the heat blasting from the vents, ceasing.

            “Nah. I never hit the wall.” John grabbed for his cellphone, pocketing it. Adam grabbed his bag, which had been thrown at his feet when he got in.

            “You say that like you’ve done it before and you don’t want to admit it.” Adam responded in a singsong voice as he opened the door. Jumping out onto the snow-covered concrete, his sneakers disappearing into the snow. John laughed, it was a low and dark sound, and he nodded his head but didn’t give any real indication that he had or had not hit that wall. Adam slammed the heavy car door behind him and it shut with a _clunk_ , walking to the front of the truck, he could hear the clicking sounds of the engine as it cooled in the cold winter air. The snow crunched under his and John’s feet as they walked to the backdoor. John locked the truck with a quick click of the key fob, walking up the back steps. Adam stood behind him, idly dragging his foot through the snow that had collected on the bottom step.

            John unlocked the backdoor with an obviously familiar swiftness and pushed it open. Following John inside, Adam shut the door behind him and lowered his hood as the lights came on. The white lights revealed a sparse kitchen that led into an unused dining room area. Towards the front door there was a living room. The house was very narrow, with its exposed brick walls, a truly traditional row house. The floors were hardwood throughout, smooth and shiny, as though they had been polished but weren’t used very much. The kitchen was plain, the appliances were standard, and the cabinets contrasted the light colored floors perfectly. There were no usual countertop appliances, no mixer, no blender; the only exception being a microwave and that was shunted away to the corner, the cord haphazardly lying on the counter. Adam noticed the pile of bowls in the sink, sitting in old, cold water, the spoons all tossed in the top bowl like a depository.

            Adam kept his backpack on for a moment, his hands in his pockets, looking at the mess on the counter top. It was all mail. Envelopes here and there, piled on top of other envelopes, some magazines, and a ton of junk mail. Adam sifted through it with his eyes, not wanting to touch it, but still wanting desperately to see. He slid his backpack from his shoulders, letting it fall to the ground, pushing it with his foot to the wall. He took a step forward, towards a bookshelf that ran along the largest section of brick wall. It was the only décor that Adam could see, there was furniture, but it was scant. There were no paintings, no posters, no pictures, nothing. The bookshelf was covered in movies, television shows; a pile of old pictures was sandwiched between some movies.

           “Learn anything interesting?” John said, a smile on his face. He was seated at the bottom of the steps, taking his boots off, one by one, letting them lay wherever they fell. Adam turned to John as he spoke and nodded, looking around the living room and the blank space that would be a dining room if John had the proper table and chairs.

           “Yeah, actually, I learned that you’re not much of a reader.” Adam gave John a mischievous grin and John huffed a laugh as Adam continued, “You also have a lot of documentaries.” He turned back to the shelf, his eyes scanning along the spines of the DVDs.

           “I like documentaries.” John leaned his elbows on his knees; staying seated on the bottom step of the stairs. Adam sighed as he straightened up from his leaning position.

           “Well, it certainly shows.” He stared at John, trying to keep his mouth straight so he didn’t break into a silly, senseless smile: one that had been threatening to take over since he climbed into that truck. John stood up slowly, stretching as he did so, his shirt untucking itself from his jeans. He sighed as his arms fell down at his sides.

           “Yeah but…” John walked over to the shelf and pointed at the bottom, “I’ve got westerns too.” Adam’s face lit up, no longer even trying to hold back his giddy smile as he squatted down onto the floor and bit his lip, immediately launching into an excited outpouring of thoughts.

           “Have you watched them all? I’ll bet you have. I know I would have by now if they were all mine.” Adam laughed, “But I don’t have a TV or anything, just my laptop; it makes watching this kind of stuff harder and kind of annoying, frankly. Ugh, but you’ve got the western TV shows too! They’re all so good.” John raised an eyebrow, staring down at Adam as he kept talking in a constant stream. He’d never gushed about anything to John before, not really. Gushing in person about something and gushing in text were two totally different things. Adam ripped his eyes away from the DVDs and stared up at John for a moment. He looked almost embarrassed as he stood up.

           “Well, I have a TV.” Adam smiled broadly, hands still in his sweatshirt pouch.

           “Naturally, you don’t have any furniture but you’ve got a TV.” Adam raised his eyebrows at John in jest.

           “I have furniture. I have a couch and uh,” John looked around for a moment, trying to decide what was furniture, “…and the coffee table and this shelf,” he touched the shelf with two fingers but shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck momentarily, “I guess that’s about it for this floor.” Now John looked almost embarrassed, giving Adam a crooked grin. Adam made a _tsk_ sound as he bent down again to the bottom shelf, scanning it quickly, before grabbing one of the DVDs. Standing back up, he handed it to John with a sigh.

           “It’s okay. Your western collection can make up for the lack of seating.” John laughed and took the DVD, walking over to the television. Adam liked how slender the house was. He could see the whole way from the front to the back and for some reason, seeing everything in one fell swoop was very comforting. The living room was simply a couch, a coffee table that was littered with water stains, and the television that was mounted on a stand. There was a DVD player and some gaming console under it, but it looked unused and it was covered in dust. Actually, the whole stand looked to be covered in dust. The couch was positioned under a large glass window that opened up onto the street outside. Adam watched the snow falling in the lamplight; it was piling up higher and higher. Cars parked on the street were disappearing now. John turned to look out the window, as the television made that soft electrical hum while it turned on, the remote secure in the palm of his hand.

            He put the first disc into the player and gestured to the couch. Adam sat down, leaning against the armrest. He pulled his hands out of his sweatshirt pouch and rested them in his lap as he crossed his legs. The couch was small and old, but it was very comfortable, there were parts of the fabric that had been worn down, probably from John collapsing onto it over the years. He sat down next to Adam, who kept glancing at John out of the corner of his eye, having never really been this close to him. He’d handed John his coffee and their fingers had grazed a few times, but now Adam’s knee was almost touching John’s leg. Gritting his teeth and trying to keep his eyes glued to the television was harder in practice then in theory. He found himself feeling like a stupid kid. Desperate to be near this other person but not wanting to push it and blow the whole thing; trying to decide if staying quiet was better then saying anything. That twisting feeling in his gut was hot and constant. He kept biting his lip and trying to watch the television. John grunted as he sat up and put his feet up on the coffee table, snuggling the remote down into the crack of the couch cushions. Adam noticed how John didn’t fold his arms; he just let them hang there as he scooted down into his seat. John made himself very comfortable but Adam sat quietly, compactly, with his legs crossed and his eyes ahead on the television.

            “Have you seen this at all?” John’s voice was deep and he didn’t move when he spoke, he sat there and stared dead ahead while he asked.

            “Sort of, clips here and there. I know what its about, but I’ve never really watched it all the way through.” Adam was picking at a thread on his jeans absent-mindedly, his voice was small and eyes kept dancing around the room. Bouncing from the television to the window, to John, then to John’s socked feet. Adam noted the boring socks that john was wearing: plain white ones with the gold toe. He smiled at this, he should have known. John wasn’t exactly a polka dot sock kind of man. Adam sat up straight then and leaned a bit more, uncrossing his legs, trying to get comfortable.

            They fell into an easy discourse, the snow kept falling down outside, covering the cars. Every so often a snowplow would go barreling by and that incredible wave of snow would come crashing down onto the poor trapped vehicles parked along the street. Adam had begun to sink down into the middle of the cushions on the couch, the remote trapped under him. The show played on but he wasn’t paying attention, he was getting warmer the closer he got to John. John hadn’t really moved, he had slouched further back into the couch and switched his feet on the table, but he was mostly stationary. Adam continued to let the couch swallow him up, the cushion under him giving way to him slowly slipping into the middle, closer and closer to John.

            Adam could smell John now, he smelled clean, like clothes straight from the dryer. It was really nice. He could smell whatever soap John used too, not that he knew what it was. He was rigid now, nervous, and wanted to be closer. His hands were sweating in his lap. He wanted to close the gap between them so bad; every time he looked down and saw that inch between their elbows it looked like the Grand Canyon, gaping and vast. The show continued on, the characters going through motions and playing out the story, but Adam wasn’t paying attention at all. He felt like he was going to implode. John just sat. Watching the television with a slightly open mouth stare, he seemed totally engrossed in the show. Adam could hear his own heartbeat in his ears, swore he could feel his blood moving everywhere, he was hot in his sweatshirt, but his hands were cold.

           He pressed his lips into a straight line, his eyes flitting down to the one-inch gap between his elbow and Johns, then up to the television. Adam was seated in the middle of the couch now, the remote secured under his thigh. John spread out from his original spot, like a pad of butter in a hot pan. Adam knew he couldn’t sit there in tight unyielding agony for the rest of the night; he had to fix this horrible hot, twisting feeling in him. He had to alleviate this pressure, whatever it was. He closed his eyes and leaned over just one more inch of space. The side of his head made contact with the warm hardness of John’s upper arm. The television played on in the background and Adam bit his lip, for one, two, three seconds, he could hear John breathing and he couldn’t help the huge smile that was on his face.

           “What are you doing?” John’s words were straightforward: too straightforward. Adam sat up rapidly; feeling like someone had dunked him in the arctic sea. His lips working around words that wouldn’t come out of his mouth, his gut churned uncomfortably, but Adam always landed on his feet.

           “Whats it look like?” He finally said, his voice was low but firm, unyielding, and he was waiting on John now. Putting him in the uncomfortable position. Making him answer, instead.

           “You put your head on my arm.” John wasn’t looking at him, his eyes were still on the television and in the dim light of the room Adam couldn’t read his face. He searched for some kind of physical indicator. John’s words were serious and dead still, as they hung in the air. Adam was feeling a wave of panic well up in him. He kept opening and shutting his mouth, he suddenly felt unsure in everyway.

           “Wait…why did you offer to come get me?” He finally asked his burning question and John shrugged, as if all of this was perfectly normal: nothing out of the ordinary.

           “Your power was out.” Adam tried to swallow but his throat was dry. He felt horrible, stupid even, and suddenly that huge wave of anxiety came crashing down on him in one swift moment. He realized he might be wrong about this, about John, about everything.

           “That’s it?” His voice was getting higher, more demanding, “My power went out, so you came and got me? _That’s it_?” John went very still. The television was still playing, albeit forgotten. Adam started to get up. He wanted to get away, he didn’t care how deep the snow was, and he didn’t care if he had to walk all the way back home. He just wanted to get out of that house. Get as far away from John as possible to stop himself from feeling like a moron. His eyes felt wet but he refused to wipe them away until he was away from this place, where John couldn’t see him doing it. He went for his backpack, heading for the back door.

           “Whats wrong?” John asked, finally. He had gotten up and was walking behind Adam into the kitchen, his hands held out in front of him in confusion. His brow was furrowed and his head cocked to the side, Adam ran a hand through his hair as he put his backpack on.

           “Obviously…” Adam closed his eyes as he spoke, still turned away from John, “…I’ve misinterpreted everything.” Adam pulled his hood up on his sweatshirt and laid his hand on the doorknob. He felt the cold metal of the door handle in his hand when he heard John laugh behind him. It was warm and light and it completely enraged Adam. He turned around sharply and stared at John, his mouth hanging open. John shook his head, a smile still on his face, his hands held up in the air as though in defeat.

           “Misinterpreted? I asked you what you were doing.” John shook his head as he continued, “I still don’t know.” He was smiling as he lowered his hands. Adam let out the breath he’d been holding. He swallowed audibly and shoved his hands into his pockets, drawing in a deep breath through his nose. Tilting his head back, he stared at the ceiling for a moment before he spoke.

           “John, why do you think I gave you my number?” He lowered his head and stared at John evenly, his vision fixed on the other man. The air in the room wasn’t as tight as it had been. No electrical spark threatening to burn down the house. No, only the television was making any sound. John’s face was contorted in thought, his mouth hanging open a bit. Adam allowed a small smile to grace his features as the answer slowly dawned.

           “Oh,” John said thickly, as if he’d only just figured it out, he pointed to Adam suddenly, “That’s what you were doing.” Adam nodded and looked down at his shoes in a pink-faced shame. He felt so inane and uncertain now and he knew he was turning a million shades of red. He could feel his ears getting hot. It wasn’t a secret anymore; it wasn’t something in the dark, now John knew. Several moments of silence passed between them, with Adam's embarrassment being far too tangible for his liking.

           “You sill wanna watch the show?” John motioned over his shoulder with his thumb. Adam was quiet for a moment, slack jawed, as he had been sure John was going to ask him to leave or take him home in that moment of realization. Adam gave a weak smile and nodded, letting his backpack fall to the ground. He still felt absurd and like his heart had been scrubbed raw. But now that John knew there was no hot burning question in his gut. Sitting back down on that couch was nice, John backing up the DVD, no small talk was attempted. Adam was seated bolt upright on his couch cushion. He watched the people on the television go by, not knowing the story because he hadn’t been following it at all. 

           Adam finally relaxed enough to cross his legs and lean back into the sofa again. No longer having a ramrod straight back against the couch. Adam noticed John looking at him more then he was previously. He started biting the inside of his cheek out of nerves again, afraid that John will tell him what he’s terrified of hearing. Now that John knows, the ball is in his court and Adam doesn’t like feeling powerless.  Coming down from his emotional roller coaster high he starts to lean back into the sofa more. Everything is warm and comfy again and the television is lulling him into a comfortable quiet place. Adam’s arms are crossed across his chest and his eyelids are closing of their own accord, when he feels John’s hand on his head. That strong force pulling his blonde head down against John’s shoulder, Adam suddenly felt hot everywhere again. But he still found his words faster this time, better then before and with more precision. He cracked one eye open, to stare up at John.

           “What are you doing?” He said slowly, proud of his little biting remark, it made him feel a bit better. He went back to listening to John breathing. He wasn’t sure if he really wanted an answer after all of that. He just wanted to stay like that forever, against John’s warmth, his nose being rubbing in John’s nice smelling clothes. John’s chest rumbled when he laughed, Adam liked the way it sounded and felt against his cheek. John never answered Adam’s question. Instead, letting his fingers answer by gliding through Adam’s hair repeatedly, petting him. Adam closed his eyes and sank into John’s shoulder and his touch. The television went on and on, but Adam was slipping away into sleep, leaning against John. The television’s noise became distant as Adam slowly fell asleep, safe under John’s arm and pressed against his shoulder, on that small couch in the poorly furnished house on Foster Avenue.


	10. Train Yards and Satisfaction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam gets to visit John's place of work, there's snow everywhere, and he and John have a good time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is super long, I apologize. Couldn't break it down properly. There is some NSFW in this, please be aware if thats not your thing. There's going to be a longer break between this chapter and the next, due to the holiday season. Please hang tight and be EXTRA patient and good. (Even though you all already are patient and good) 
> 
> Thanks!  
> HAPPY HOLIDAYS, I hope you all get everything your little hearts desire.

           The first thing Adam heard when he awoke was running water; it sounded distant and concentrated. He rolled over onto his side and buried his face into the couch cushion, trying to go back to sleep, it was a futile effort. He grabbed the blanket around his shoulders and pulled it up higher, attempting to cover his face. The sound of the rushing water wouldn’t stop and as he came to, he realized that the noise was coming from above him, in the ceiling. He rolled over onto his back and stared upwards, listening intently to what he now knew was the shower running. His fingers laced over his chest and his legs crossed under the blanket, he hated the way the cotton was catching on his jeans, it felt awful. It felt like it was trapping him, sticking to him; it felt terrible.

            The water cut off abruptly and the vague rushing noise ceased. Only to be replaced by the heavy footsteps as they thundered across the room overhead. Adam rolled onto his side, curling up into a fetal position, his eyes scanning the room in front of him. Everything was quiet except for the footsteps and the soft noises of drawers opening and closing. Adam yawned as he listened to John approaching the top of the stairs. His tired eyes watched with delight as plain, white-socked feet came rushing down the darkly colored steps. He felt his face flush as John came into full view, pulling his long sleeved t-shirt down his chest as he quickly descended the stairs. Adam caught the barest glimpse of dark hair scattered lightly down John’s stomach, tapering into a thin line that vanished into his jeans. He came to a standstill at the bottom of the stairs, his dark hair wet and floppy; he looked directly at Adam, “Hello.” He tilted his head this way and that, trying to assess Adam’s alertness, a small smile graced his features. Adam felt that it was far too early to be so incredibly awake.

           “What time is it?” He asked deeply and groggily, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. John had turned and walked into the kitchen, Adam could hear a cupboard opening. He looked up and saw John pulling out two travel mugs, placing them onto the counter top with a definitive _clink_.

            “5:13 a.m.” John said in a gentle tone as Adam stood up, wearing the blanket like a cape, he dragged himself into the kitchen. John was pouring coffee into the travel mugs; he had his back to Adam, who was leaning on the kitchen island, yawning, not for the last time.

            “Why so early?” He leaned his cheek on his hand, supported by his elbow on the counter. His eyes wouldn’t stay open; he was tired, eyelids constantly shutting halfway before he caught them.

            “I gotta go to work. Make sure everything can operate on its own today.” Adam’s heart dropped into his stomach and he pulled the blanket around himself tighter. He knew this was the signal. He didn’t want to go home, despite wanting a shower and a nap. He didn’t want those things bad enough to be away from John. He knew this had something to do with the night before; he cursed himself inwardly, trying not to be obvious. Sighing, he sucked his lip between his teeth and that awful tight feeling in his chest returned. His stomach feeling nauseous with the knowledge that he had brought this on himself. He should have known.

           “Oh, okay.” He pulled the blanket off of himself, relishing the way it smelled like John, with that same clean, cotton smell. John was rooting around in the refrigerator, “You want milk in your coffee?” He asked as Adam folded up the blanket that had been around him, he pulled it to his chest as John spoke.

          “Only this much.” He held his fingers up. John smiled at his reference and began to pour whole milk into one of the travel mugs. Adam clung to the blanket, his feet shifting about, but his eyes glued to Johns’ broad back. He wondered if John would still come in for coffee every morning, even though he probably wouldn’t text Adam anymore after this, not now, not after last night’s display.

          “So, you want to see some trains with me?” John’s voice was still quiet as he pulled the refrigerator open once more to put the milk back.

          “What?” Adam stared at John, waiting for an explanation, still clutching the folded up blanket. John turned back to the coffee cups, placing the lids on them with small snapping sounds as they clicked into place.

          “Yeah, where I work.” He picked up Adam’s coffee cup and handed it to him, “You know at the train yard,” Adam put the blanket down on the counter and took the coffee from John silently, “Some of them are in the shed there, I thought you might want to see them.” Adam stared at John for a moment, his lips parted slightly as he thought about what to say, but John cut through his silence hurriedly, “Unless you want to stay here and go back to bed? It’s okay if you do…you’re probably tired so-” Adam almost dropped his coffee in his haste to answer as evenly as he could muster under the shock and strain.

         “I’d like to see where you work.” He blurted as calmly as possible, his hands gripping the coffee cup tightly. John laughed.

         “Alright, you ready to go then?” John walked to the bannister, where his black coat had been hanging since the night before. He grabbed it and quickly put it on, zipping it up half way. Adam simply nodded in agreement and pulled his hood up with one hand, his shoes were still on and tied properly. He followed John out the backdoor; the truck was already cleaned off. John must have been up far longer then Adam had been aware of. The area around the doors was cleared as well, the shovel now propped up against the concrete wall.

         “How long have you been awake?” Adam asked as John unlocked the truck and Adam climbed inside, trying to get away from the cold. John climbed into the drivers seat.

         “Uhh…since about 4:00, I guess?” John started the engine, the truck roaring to life. Warm air was coming out of the vents and Adam hit the seat heater with gusto.

         “Gross, that’s super early.” Adam nestled into his seat, “I’m interested to see where you work though, since you know, you see where I work all the time.” Adam put his coffee cup next to John’s in the cup holder, buckling his seatbelt as he spoke. He tucked his legs up against his chest in the seat, as he always did. It was just warmer this way. John gave a laugh as he backed the truck up out of the spot and into the tight alleyway. Once again giving Adam a slight heart attack as the front end almost clipped the concrete wall again.

         It didn’t take long to get out onto the main road. The snow had covered cars, trees, porch steps, everything. There were very few cars on the road and the ones that were out moved slowly and carefully. The roads had obviously been plowed but they weren’t devoid of snow yet, the salt having not really had a chance to do anything. John kept the truck in the middle of the road for the most part, avoiding snowdrifts and ice patches. The radio was on, but it was just AM radio, someone blithering and talking away about the state of the city, the weather, where they would put the snow. It was soothing being out so early in the morning; it was calm, the sun just peeking up above the city skyline as they pulled onto the highway. Adam liked the way the snow covered city lay out beneath him as the truck rushed over top on the highway. The view was spectacular, the sun coming up and catching on all that white, pristine snow. From the safety and warmth of the truck he was in, it was very easy to admit how beautiful it all was. They descended off of the highway and pulled onto smaller roads. They were heading into an obviously industrial area. The snow was here too, but it was already dirty from the constant movement of trucks and cars throughout the night. The truck was starting to slow down, weaving its way through streets to a gated parking lot. It had been plowed, but barely, there were no cars, no people, nothing. It was empty.

         “Alright,” John pulled the truck into a spot and slammed it into park, “We’re here.” He opened the storage console in the middle, after gently moving Adam’s elbow out of the way, and pulled out a ring of keys. He pocketed them and downed the rest of his coffee, shutting the engine off and hopping out of the truck, his boots crunching on the snow beneath him. Adam followed suit and soon they were both walking along the slightly paved parking lot to a large building with a glass door. John pulled out the key ring and selected one of the keys, unlocking the door. Adam followed him inside quickly.

         “What do you have to do?” Adam asked as he pulled the door shut behind himself, stomping his shoes to get the excess snow off.

         “Just got to check on everything.” Adam was in amazement as he followed John. They went up several flights of stairs and walked through a large room filled with cubicles, the ceilings were very high. Adam noticed how quiet and still it was; there was no one in the building but them. He watched John in front of him as he walked, leading Adam down a corridor, into what looked like some kind of command center. Computers lined the walls, buttons lighting up here and there, switches lining a large metal box, and several wheelie chairs lined up at a large main computer screen.

          “Is this where you work?” Adam asked, keeping his arms crossed as he walked around and looking everything over. He was naturally curious and wanted to know everything about everything. John was leaning over the main computer, punching something in; he had a slight grin on his face.

          “Yep, this is where I am everyday.” Adam came over and stood close to John, he could feel the heat radiating off of him and he could smell him again. He still smelled clean; cleaner, if that was possible.

          “This is the coolest thing. This is so neat. What do you do? How do you do it?” Adam glanced over John’s shoulder, watching the computer screen as John typed things in here and there and utilized a very strange ball mouse.

          “One question at a time there, cowboy.” John said as he squinted at the screen, clicking things here and there, “I just monitor trains and make sure they’re not going off rails or anything. That’s about it. Pretty simple.” He stood up then, clearing his throat, “That’s all I had to do. So, we can go.” Adam opened and shut his mouth several times, letting out a soft huff of air. Not even sure what John did.

          “But I want to see them! And you didn’t answer me,” He followed john out of the small room, “How do you do this? How do you know what to do or what to press? This all looks so complicated.” John shut the door behind him and locked it, he sighed as he turned to Adam then.

          “It’s not that complicated, really. It’s a lot of training in the beginning but you learn how to do it as time goes on. It becomes second nature after a while.” He gestured to Adam to follow him and he started walking back the way they came.

          “But what if you make a mistake? What if like a train explodes or something?” Adam followed along behind John quickly, his sneakers squeaking on the floors.

          “Explodes?” John chuckled, “A train won’t explode: the contents of the container will explode, causing the train to explode. But trains themselves don’t explode.” John said all of this so matter-of-factly, leading Adam down a different flight of stairs then the one they came up. Adam gave John a barrage of questions; he wanted to know everything about John’s job. What it was like, how he got into it, did he like it, and how long had he been doing it, all of his questions laced with compliments and expressions of wonder and, even, respect. John didn’t know how to take it and tried to answer the questions as they came. They rounded a corner sharply, Adam still talking a mile a minute, and John stopped just before a large metallic door. Adam ran right into the back of him, pulling away abruptly and staring up at John as he spoke, his eyes glazed over as he stared.

          “If I didn’t know any better I’d of thought that you were trying to butter me up for something.” John said as he raised his eyebrows at Adam, who simply grinned and shook his head. John said nothing and instead pushed the door open, leading back outside into the snow. This time though there was no parking lot, no truck, no nothing. It was just three large black engines, covered in snow, sitting idly on storage tracks. Across the frozen snowy landscape was the main flat yard, shunting cars sitting idly off on the sidetracks.

          “Oh…” Adam stared for a moment, his eyes glazing over, his mouth hanging open, “They’re huge! I always knew they were big from seeing them in movies and on TV but I didn’t think they’d be _this_ big or _this_ amazing!” Adam took off, walking far ahead of John and much faster, staring at the engines, his arms finally uncrossed. He was down on his knees in the snow trying to see under them. He didn’t seem to mind that his jeans were soaked at the knees now. He was talking and talking, simply prattling on about the different kinds he’d seen on television shows. Which ones were on which show and what his favorite was. John stood idly by with a small grin on his face, watching Adam light up.

        “I told you they don’t look like that one you drew me on the cup.” John said as he leaned against the biggest one, Adam looking straight up at it, his lips slightly parted in astonishment.

         “I didn’t know, John. I swear. I didn’t realize.” Adam laughed outright at his own honesty and so did John. Adam ran his hands over the engine, it was cold and he could only imagine how great they sounded in person. John sighed and Adam looked directly at him once more, his attention off of the trains for a split second.

         “Yeah, not much has changed since wild west times, huh?” He leaned back a little farther against the engine, smiling at Adam.

         “Ugh, don’t be like that John.” Adam rolled his eyes and continued to walk around the main engine, eyeing it up. John watched him walk by, noticing how crinkled his clothes were and the wet spots on the knees of his jeans.

         “Come here, let me show you something.” John led Adam to a set of tracks. These weren’t covered by snow, John squatted down, gesturing to Adam to do the same, “Feel it.” He said plainly, pointing to the train track, Adam looked between John and the metal track for a few seconds before gingerly putting his fingers on it.

          “Shit, it’s hot!” He said as he pulled his hand away hurriedly, touching his fingertips to his thumb, trying to soothe away the slight burn. John hissed, breathing in through his teeth, running a hand quickly along the back of his neck.

          “Sorry, I didn’t think they’d be _that_ hot.” John took Adams hand in his own before Adam could protest. He turned it over and looked at Adam’s slender, pale fingers, noticing how red they were now on the ends, “The track gets hot because of the trains passing through, thought it was a while ago. Sorry about that.” John’s gaze stayed on Adam’s fingertips, they were slightly red, but there was no lasting damage. John let his hand go and Adam looked at his own fingertips then, running his tongue over his lips, nodding at John’s apology; he liked the way John’s hand felt on his own. It was very warm. John stood up, Adam following him in silence, his excitement about the trains replaced by a deep thrumming warmth in his chest. He wanted John to touch his hand again; he wanted John to touch him, anywhere, everywhere.

          “Are you sure my fingers aren’t…burnt?” Adam asked as he walked, hoping against hope that maybe John would take his hand again and look at it. John didn’t turn around though, he was staring at his boots as he walked; stepping over tracks and walking quickly back around the building, back to the parking lot.

          “Nah, they’re not burnt, don’t worry. They’re just uncomfortable.” John’s voice was quick, hurried, as he spoke over his shoulder. They rounded the building and were back at the parking lot once again. There was the truck, its engine clicking away happily as it cooled. They both got into the truck simultaneously; Adam reaching for his coffee, it was still warm.

          “It’s weird having you make me coffee.” Adam said as he wrapped his sore fingers around the cup, breathing in the warmth as John started the engine and put the truck into reverse, heading out of the parking lot.

          “Oh, yeah you’re right,” A look of realization covered John’s features as he laughed, “I didn’t even think of that.” He swung the wheel to the left, giving the truck some gas, the engine revving to life as it crossed the salt covered road. Adam tittered to himself, still holding his coffee cup. The warmth felt good against his fingers. The car ride was smooth; John turned the radio off completely, uninterested in the news and the goings on of the world. He kept yawning as he drove. Adam said nothing; he sat and held his coffee cup, sipping at it slowly. His fingers didn’t hurt anymore and the silence was really pleasant. It didn’t feel uncomfortable or weird; it didn’t need to be filled in any way. It just was and that was nice. The truck got off the highway and onto the smaller, two lane roads once more: the traffic picking up as the morning progressed. John turned the vehicle down this street and then that, passing moving cars, snow drifts, cars still buried, plows, and even people walking down the covered sidewalks. There were kids playing outside, errant snowballs flying, obviously schools had been closed. John turned down his street and headed for the alleyway, slowing the vehicle down enough to squeeze it into the alley, mirrors pulled in against the body of the truck with the touch of a button. Pulling into the parking pad once more, Adam closed his eyes again, gripping his seat.

       “That is so nerve wracking.” He said as the truck came to a halt, John turning the engine off, yawning as he did so.

       “You get used to it.” John spoke through the yawn, moving slowly, grabbing his coffee cup with one hand, and then opening the truck door with the other. Adam slid out of the truck and shut the door behind him, walking across the cleared off concrete pad. The sun was much higher now then when they had left and Adam could distantly hear the snow melting off of the roofs of houses, porches, trees, hearing those soft trickling dripping sounds. The faint noise of car tires smashing through newly formed puddles on the freshly cleared roads, these were all the sounds of winter already thawing. Adam liked that sound, it was better then the howling and the sharp biting wind from the night before. John opened the backdoor and walked inside, it was warm in here and the coffee pot still had the cold coffee from earlier in it. Adam shut the door behind him, watching John empty the coffee pot over the dirty dishes and set it on the counter. Adam grimaced at the sight. Now that he was back in the house he realized how cold his knees were. His jeans were soaked through from bending down to look at the trains. He could feel that usual prickling on his skin from the heat of the room and the chill of his flesh. It felt awful, it tickled but in a horrible way.

         “John?” Adam pulled himself away from the door as John turned around from the sink, “Can I take a shower? My pants are soaked.” Adam made a face as he gestured to his knees and the bottoms of his jeans, the fabric all dark from the snow.

         “Sure, you want some dry clothes for after you get out?” Adam stared at John for a moment before answering.

         “Aren’t your clothes going to be too big?” He laughed a bit at the thought, him, in John’s clothes. It was almost romantic.

         “Nah, I’m sure I have some sweatpants and a t-shirt that’ll work. At least you wont be in wet clothes.” Adam nodded his head as he answered, “Okay.” John started walking off to the stairs and Adam followed. They creaked as the two walked upwards; John led him down the hall a bit and stopped, turning the light on in a bathroom. It was clean and shockingly neat, Adam assumed it was unused. The white tiles were nice, the sink was a standalone pedestal sink, the toilets lid was shut, and the one towel was white; very sterile, very vacant.

         “Here you go. There’s soap in the shower and just use that towel there.” John gestured vaguely to the one white towel hanging on the rack. Adam nodded.

         “Uh, don’t you have a towel for the floor?” Adam asked as he pointed down.

         “Oh yeah,” John said quietly, almost under his breath as he walked off to the end of the hallway, going through an open door. Adam leaned a bit to see what was in there, he was curious what was on this floor. He had already investigated the first floor, but now he was in a new environment and he was dying to see what was up here. He could see the carpet, it was plain and beige and there were clothes everywhere on the floor, he could just make out the corner of an unmade bed, there was a dark colored nightstand with a lamp on it: John’s room. He bit his lip, he wanted to go in there and see what John’s bed looked like, he wanted to see how John lived in his most personal of quarters. He could hear a cabinet opening and shutting and the pounding of feet on the carpeted floor as John returned holding another towel. He had a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt with him as well, and a bottle of some kind.

         “Towel, sweatpants, and a shirt.” John said as he presented the pile of cloth to Adam with a smile, “And I couldn’t remember if there was shampoo in there or not so, here.” He handed Adam a bottle labeled, ‘shampoo’, the substance in the bottle was clear. Adam squinted at the label critically.

         “Is this dish soap?” He asked suspiciously as he turned the bottle over in his hands, looking for a name, a brand, a scent, something. But there was nothing.

         “No it’s shampoo. See, it says, shampoo.” John pointed to the label, Adam opened it and smelled it; it smelled like nothing really. He sighed.

         “It’s boring, but it’ll do, I suppose.” Adam sighed and gave John a cheeky grin. John smiled back and shrugged, putting his hands in his pockets as he turned to go back down the hall, he spoke as he walked, “Better then washing your hair with bar soap, kiddo, cause that’s all that’s in there.” He turned around and winked at Adam, then walked away into his room, his feet muffled by the carpet. Adam could hear John flopping down onto his bed, sighing as he did so. Adam was flustered, his face pink as he turned into the bathroom, shutting the door behind himself with an audible click. The shower took no time at all to get warm and Adam made it as quick as possible. He had draped his wet jeans over the radiator in the bathroom, hoping they’d dry a little bit before he got out, but he surely doubted it. He used John’s weird nondescript shampoo and marveled at how anyone could live without fun soap. He even went so far as to use the bar soap, it was yellow and weird and old. It was even cracked on the edges. Adam took several seconds flipping the yellow bar around in his hands, wondering how long it had sat in this shower, neglected and idle, and why in the world John thought that was a good thing to present to visitors.

          He shut the shower off and got out, drying himself off and putting on the t-shirt and sweatpants. The pants were grey and a bit too big, but manageable, and the t-shirt had John’s company’s name on it. Adam liked it; it was drawn to look like the company’s letter logo was in fact a train. He wanted to keep it. He placed the towel he had dried off with on the rack and draped the one that had been on the floor over the radiator. Exiting the bathroom, he had his dirty clothes in his arms as he turned the light out and walked into the hallway, not sure where the dryer was. The television was on in John’s room; the sound was low, someone was chattering. He could see from the hall that John was sitting on his bed, he had changed into his sweatpants, he looking down at his phone. Adam found himself wondering if that’s what John had looked like all these weeks that they’d been texting everyday and night. He pulled himself out of his thoughts and carefully walked towards the room and lingered in the doorway, a bit uncomfortably.

        “John?” Adam asked quietly, John looked up at him with that one blue eye, “Where is your dryer?” He held up the ball of dirty, wet clothes.

        “It’s in the basement, so don’t worry about it now. Just lay them on the radiator.” John pointed to the white washed radiator on the opposite wall, it was covered in John’s pants and shirt. He walked over to it, avoiding the piles of dirty clothes on the floor. Scooting John’s jeans over and his shirt, Adam made room for his things on the radiator too. The television droned on at a low volume behind Adam as he laid his clothes out gently, trying to make them even so they’d dry.

        “I’m watching TV up here.” Adam turned around to look at John, he had a remote in his hand, but he wasn’t looking at Adam. He leaned on his elbow, his legs stretched out in front of him, his feet crossed at the ankles. He was wearing black sweatpants; those terrible white socks, and a t-shirt. He was clicking through the title menu as Adam nodded, though he didn’t know where he should sit. Before he could walk over to the edge of the bed, John delicately patted the mattress, specifying for Adam to sit next to him. But as Adam crawled onto the bed, he felt silly, he wanted to be brave and put his head on John again. He wanted to lean on John's shoulder like he had the night before. Adam could feel those butterflies in his stomach again, fluttering around with an intensity they hadn't had the previous evening, now that he was so close to John and on such comfortable terrain. The television started playing the show from last night . Adam didn’t remember this part but he didn’t care, he just wanted to assume the same position he’d had before. He bit his lip and sat down near John, tucking his legs up tighter to his chest as he turned his head and watched John get comfortable. He kept leaning back into the pillows; Adam thought he looked so relaxed and warm and comfy. It only took a moment for Adam to make his decision and take his great leap of faith; he leaned himself down onto Johns shoulder again, just as he had the night before. But this time he got to curl up next to him and they weren’t scrunched up on the couch.

         John shifted slightly under him and Adam felt John’s strong arm curl around him. He closed his eyes and smiled to himself: this was nice, very nice. John smelled just as good as he had the night before and he was so warm. Adam caught himself nuzzling up into John, as he opened his eyes he looked up and saw John’s stubbly neck leading into his thick beard. He felt hot all over suddenly; the heat gripped him intensely. The televisions noise being drowned out by the blood pounding through his head; his mouth went dry and his hands became clammy. Adam scooted closer still every fraction of a second. He couldn’t pull his eyes away from John’s neck, John’s beard; he couldn’t stop himself from breathing a little too deeply when he got closer to John. He didn’t know how obvious he was being or how sneaky, he didn’t really care. There was this magnetic pull and he wasn’t resisting. John’s arm was tightening around his back and he could have sworn that John was pulling him in. Soon he was close enough that the only place for him to put his hand was on John’s chest, gripping his shirt. The television played on and John didn’t move except to breath, his chest carrying Adam with it, his feet were still crossed at the ankles. Adam felt like he was on fire.

          His fingers lacing with John’s shirt tighter and tighter till Adam was close enough for his nose to graze John’s neck and his beard. He didn’t know what to do; he was trying to give John telepathy, he felt like he was falling. He wished John would either tell him to fuck off or kiss him. He could feel John’s fingers pressing hotly into his back now and he was pretty sure that was as good a sign as any. Quickly, before John could say anything, Adam grazed the tip of his nose against John’s neck, his lips dragging on John’s stubble. He puckered them into little pecking kisses, tightly holding onto John’s shirt, willing John to do something, anything, move, scream, bark, punch him in the mouth. Adam’s eyes were closed as he planted one more kiss on John’s neck, just below his ear. He tried to stop it but he couldn’t control the whine that came out of his throat, clawing its way up and out and into John’s ear. There were no words; it was just a flash of movement as John tilted his head to look down at Adam, who was now trapped between John’s arm behind him and John’s chest in front of him. He opened and shut his mouth a couple of times, John’s one blue eye squinted at him, watching him for a split second before Adam felt himself being pulled to John tightly. John pulled Adam up onto his chest, his lips on Adam’s neck, leaving a hot trail from Adam’s collarbone to his ear. He whined outright at that and gripped the pillow on either side of John’s head before planting his lips on John’s heatedly.

          John’s lips were rough and hot and wet and insistent and perfect and when he opened his mouth, their tongues collided. Adam was breathing quickly through his nose, his tongue in John’s mouth and John’s tongue in his. Adam’s fingers flew through John’s hair, gripping it at its roots. He could feel John’s hands everywhere, all over his back and gliding up under his shirt, his rough hands leaving hot trails on Adams skin. John held onto him as he sat up on the bed, taking Adam with him once more, pulling Adam onto his lap forcefully, there was no denying him. John leaned backwards into the pillows and Adam followed, wrapping his legs around John’s waist and back as he sat on John’s lap. John’s mouth began its hot assault on Adam’s neck again, this time biting and nipping everywhere he could reach. He was breathing heavily and nuzzling hotly against Adam’s skin. Adam felt possessed, completely and utterly and started letting small moans out into the room. John seemed spurred on by those sweet high-pitched sounds and pulled Adam closer by the small of his back. Adam gave a deep groan when he felt John’s hardness pressing against his thigh. He let his head fall forward against John’s shoulder then, looking down into his lap and seeing the obvious tenting of those black sweatpants. John’s kisses kept raining down on the side of Adam’s neck, his rough fingers in Adam’s wet hair as Adam starred downwards.

         “John,” Adam whispered as John’s kisses slowed, he was panting, canting his hips slightly towards Adam.

         “Yeah?” He asked breathlessly, nuzzling into Adam, his lips still lingering on Adam’s neck, his fingers tugging gently at Adam’s shirt. Adam said nothing, simply reaching down and lightly grazing John’s erection with his fingertips. John hissed through his teeth. Adam didn’t ask permission, he didn’t need it and soon enough he was pulling the hem of John’s sweatpants down to reveal navy blue boxer shorts. He gave a soft huff of a laugh before looking up at John’s face.

          His eyes found John’s eye, as he dipped his hand into John’s boxers, pushing the fabric out of the way and revealing John’s cock. John gave a soft whine as Adam gently tugged on it. He was transfixed, he could hear the television, he could see John, he could feel everything, but he was just wholly captivated. Everything he’d wanted and dreamed and thought of for weeks was in front of him, exposed and hot and hungry. John’s cock was nice, it was thick and veiny and filled up most of Adam’s hand. Adam gave it a confident squeeze, eliciting a soft grunt from John and a nice thick bead of pre-come. Adam grinned from ear to ear, he loved this reaction; he looked up at John then and pushed his lips to Johns once more. Their tongues danced around each other’s as Adam kept squeezing and gently rubbing up and down in a tight, steady rhythm. It didn’t take long for John to catch on and he slipped his hand into Adam’s sweatpants, pulling out Adam’s cock. Adam bit his lip and moaned, rolling his head back. John’s rough fingers all over him, in one of his most private places, he couldn’t help but blush, eyes half lidded. Adam pushed his forehead against John’s, staring down at John’s cock, rubbing it’s tip with his thumb, brushing that sticky, hot fluid all around the deeply reddened tip. He ran his hand up and down John’s length in earnest, earning a couple of moans and grunts, John shifting his hips to meet Adam’s hand. It was everything Adam could do to keep up though, once John moved his hand around Adam’s hardness.

          Adam gave out and leaned forward completely, his forehead on John’s shoulder and John’s head resting against Adam’s neck. They were both slowly crumbling into a pile of moans and groans, hands moving quicker and faster and hotter around each other’s members. Adam started canting his hips in time with John’s hands movement, trying to get as much friction as possible in John’s warm, coarse hand. Adam was a symphony of sound. The fingers of his free hand were tight in John’s shirt, gripping for dear life. Everything was hot and constant and tight and Adam was pretty sure this was nirvana. He kept canting his hips into John’s hand and moving his own hand around John’s cock as best he could but he was starting to give in. He kept moaning and shaking and his hips were starting to quiver.

           “ _John_ ,” he moaned as he pressed himself as tight as he could to John’s body, “John, it’s happening, _ohhh_ , it’s happening…” he kept whispering in John’s ear. John simply nodded and kept moving his hand reassuringly, swiftly, tightly, around Adam. Adam focused his attention on the tip of John’s cock, rubbing the palm of his hand on it firmly, making John give an outright groan, his strong hips pushing into Adam’s hand desperately. Their breathing started to change together and Adam gave a shout as John gave one final twist on Adam’s pink, shiny cock before he spilled into John’s hand. At the sight of Adam coming all over his lap and the tightness of Adam’s palm on the tip of him, John came quietly, grunting into Adam’s neck, biting down on his shoulder. Adam mewled softly, his breathing coming back to normal as John detached his teeth from Adam’s neck.

            They sat in silence for some time, the televisions noise coming back into focus. Adam’s arms both wrapped around John’s neck, his toes curling and uncurling, his fingers in John’s hair, his forehead resting against John’s shoulder. John had his arms around Adam, pulling him tighter to his chest, simply holding him there, and staring straight ahead at the television. Finally Adam sighed, turning his head to speak directly into John’s ear, “I’ve been waiting for this.” He planted a kiss on John’s neck and John gave a deep, satisfied laugh, his hands roaming Adam’s back reassuringly.


	11. Panic at the Post Box and the Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam receives jarring news, someone commits a social faux pas at a party, and Adam gets to show off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! Thanks for waiting everyone. You've all had the patience of saints and for that I thank you.  
> Just a gentle reminder that there is some NSFW writing towards the end of this chapter. There is also a slight homophobia mention towards the middle, nothing drastic or overt, but I figured it should be mentioned. There is also a history lesson nestled into this chapter and if you can figure it out I'll give you a bodacious and informative lecture about it! 
> 
> Anyway, have at it.

             At 5:47 p.m. the traffic was dreadful, walking home was incredibly dangerous; crossing streets was taking your life in your hands. The snow had long since disappeared and the streets were uncovered slowly by the early spring weather of March and the people seemed to come out of hiding. Everyone had stopped wearing their coats, hats, gloves and boots, donning now their t-shirts, skirts, shorts and, for the daring, flip-flops. It was constantly raining though. There were puddles everywhere and as cars went skidding by they splashed dirty road water onto the people walking on sidewalks. Adam was used to the rain for this time of year. He walked up the sidewalk towards his apartment, jingling his keys in his hands, trying to find the right key to the front door. He hadn’t been there in some time. He really only came by once or twice a week to get his mail or some laundry, maybe a book or two. Usually he was at Johns. He liked not thinking of his horrible apartment as ‘home’ anymore. He loved that the right hand side of John’s bed was his and he cackled far too loudly over the fact that his roommate had texted him and asked him if he would still be paying rent. Adam had relished that text so much, showing it to John and burying his face in the pillows and laughing. He waited a while to respond.

             He splashed through puddles walking up the concrete; the grass growing between slabs was drowning in the standing water. The steps to his apartment building were slick, as they always were when it rained. His rubber boots stamping onto the old stone as he went. Reaching the door at the top of the steps he pulled it open to dodge the impending downpour and headed to the mailbox, producing a small golden colored key as he did so. The mailbox was on the wall was one of the old, small, brass ones, as though it had been transported through time from a post office long forgotten. It was stuffed to the brim with mail. Obviously his roommate hadn’t gotten his own mail in a while, let alone Adams. As he sifted through envelope after envelope, determining which was junk and which wasn’t, something caught his eye: a large envelope addressed to him, from the Embassy of the Russian Federation. Adam stopped and stared at it. He knew it had been coming. It was something he hadn’t given much thought to, but now, after John, it was something he desperately wished to never see. His tongue felt heavy in his mouth as he popped his finger into the envelope and ripped it open. He stopped himself half way through and took off his backpack, sitting it on the floor; he shoved the envelope inside, down, down, down, to the bottom of his bag. Zipping it up, hoping to contain it in there, for now, until later, when he could figure something out.

             Adam slammed the mailbox shut, leaving his roommates mail where it was. He shouldered his backpack once more and walked up the old stairs to the apartment. The wooden steps creaked under his rain boots, the metal clasps on them sounding like spurs. The letter had him rattled, his worries emerging; he didn’t think they were that watchful or concerned that they would keep such a knowing gaze on his graduation schedule. He shook his head as he put his key into the lock on the door, twisting it fiercely, he shoved the door open, slipping through and letting it slam behind with a heavy _clunk_.

             He was only there for a quick moment though. Walking down the hall rapidly, his coat rustling as he went, he headed to his room. The bed was made, the clothes that were there were stacked neatly in piles, and the books were few. It looked as if he was barely there and in truth he was barely there. Taking his backpack off he placed it on his made bed and grabbed a book off his nightstand, jamming it in his bag. The bag slumped to the mattress as he turned around, his eyes scanning the room quickly. He was soon reduced to opening drawers and digging through clean clothes, pushing sheets aside and picking up towels, only to find what he was looking for hanging on the back of the closed bedroom door: his cashmere red scarf. He took it down; unwinding it from the hook it had been hanging on, and put it in his bag. Shouldering his backpack again, he walked out into the hall. He closed the bedroom door behind himself and walked briskly to the front door, his hand on the doorknob as he stood there in silence. He kept biting his lip and mulling over the letter in his bag. Staring down at the golden handle in his palm and dwelling on the fact that he wouldn’t get another chance to read it that night. He sighed and took his backpack off again, pulling the letter from its depths and letting as the bag fall to the floor. He held the partially ripped envelope in his hand and opened it the rest of the way, peering inside at a lone letter, addressed to him. He finally pulled it out of the envelope and unfolded it, noticing how the paper was that nice, thick watermarked paper. His eyes scanned the letter; he wouldn’t let himself get invested in what it said. It told him of the end of his student visa, should he graduate that coming June: he would have two months to end all tenancy, wherever that may be and that he would have to return to Russia in August.

            He pulled his eyes away from the paper for a moment and stared out the large window, the rain was still coming down, but now in a drizzle. This wasn’t a shock; it wasn’t even unexpected, but he surely didn’t want to hear it now. Not now, not after John, not after these past two months. He felt his chest tighten and his face get hot. He didn’t want to deal with this now and crumpled up the letter into an angry ball, throwing it into his backpack in some effort to make it disappear. He blinked back the moisture he felt in his eyes, grabbed his bag and went for the front door again, this time opening it and going out into the main hallway, letting the door crash shut behind him. He walked down the stairs quickly, his feet barely touching the wooden steps as he careened down. Heading to the large security door, peering out, looking for that trademark black truck. The rain was still coming down as Adam stared out the doors plain glass window. The sidewalks had small rivers traveling down them and the roads had bunches of leaves caught in the storm drains; cars that went rushing by sent small waves of water up onto the sidewalks. He sighed to himself, his hands in his coat pockets and his face buried in his red scarf wrapped around his neck. His eyes felt puffy and wet and he rubbed at them, trying not to show how upset he was. He didn’t want to ruin John’s evening with his worries and his tears, so he decided to keep it to himself. He kept scuffing his boot on the floor out of apprehension, still trying to get up that nasty stain on the old subway tiles.

            Adam remembered the last time he was standing there in that foyer waiting for John. He leaned his head against the wooden archway and grinned to himself, thinking about how the snow had been coming down instead of the rain. How there had been no traffic and the sky was ever darkening; the way those headlights had cut through the night and the cold, how anxious he had been. Those same headlights appeared now out front, followed quickly by the usual black truck. It came to a standstill by the curb. Adam pulled his hood up once more and darted out into the weather, being mindful of oncoming traffic as he opened the door and jumped inside. He shut the door behind him and took his backpack off, leaving it at his feet. His hood was pulled down swiftly and he pushed the seat heater on all in one fluid motion, only pausing for a moment to grin at John and put his seatbelt on. He hugged his knees to his chest, as he always did.

            “Got everything?” John said, not looking at Adam but instead glancing at the rear view mirror. He put on his blinker and tugged the wheel with one hand, pulling back out onto the road. The windshield wipers picked up speed as the truck sped up, the tires cutting through the streets, which had become rivers. The windshield wipers moved quickly against the onslaught of water.

            “Yeah, it was just my one book and my scarf.” He bent down to reach into his bag, fishing for the scarf to show John. His fingers grazed on the edges of the crumbled up letter. He ignored the paper for now and made a beeline for the scarf, pulling it out of his bag hand over fist.

            “You went home to get _another_ red scarf?” John glanced at Adam, his voice dry, he turned the wheel, heading down a main road. Adam rubbed the scarf against his own cheek.

            “Of course, it’s cashmere! Feel.” He took a corner of the scarf and made a show of rubbing John’s face with it, the threads getting caught in John’s beard and stubble. John hummed, “Yep, that’s a cloth.” He turned the wheel to the right and Adam sighed, pulling the scarf into his lap.

            “You don’t appreciate the finer things in life. That’s why you drive this large black American box.” Adam gestured to the dash of the truck with a vivacious grin on his pale face; John chuckled.

            “But I love boxes.” John’s voice went up as he spoke, putting the truck into reverse and parallel parking it on the narrow city street. Adam rolled his eyes and removed his cotton scarf from around his neck, tucking it into his backpack as John parked the truck perfectly against the curb. Adam wound the cashmere scarf around his neck and zipped his jacket up more, causing the scarf to bunch against his face. It was soft and warm and Adam was content in his heated seat with his scarf keeping him slightly concealed. The truck jarred into park, shifting back and forth in place from its own weight as John undid his seatbelt, the trucks engine still running and the dash giving off its trademark _dinging_ at John’s obvious safety transgression.

            “Alright, you ready?” John asked, his hand on the ignition, about to turn the engine off. The truck continued to quietly motor in place, the heating vents blowing out warm air, ruffling John’s hair. Adam sighed and shuffled about, his hands in the pockets of his jacket, his face buried in the soft cashmere of the scarf. His eyes bounced around the cabin the truck, finally settling on the dash in front of him.

            “As ready as I’ll ever be.” He said, his voice muffled into his scarf, his hand on the door handle, pulling it open. John nodded silently and turned the engine off in one movement, pulling the key out of the ignition. The car was locked and they walked down the sidewalk, John leading the way. The sun was going down. The cars going past were moving hastily, uninterested in John and Adam as they walked in the rain. John had parked not too far from where they were headed, a nice row house on a pretty nice street, in a really nice part of town. Adam noticed how John didn’t hunch his shoulders when he walked through the rain like another person would cower from the falling sky. Adam ducked into his scarf and pulled his hood around his face as much as he could. When he looked up from his boots, his eyes found John’s back as he walked, like nothing could hurt him or slow him down. Adam envied that attitude, those strong shoulders; John walked like he could walk against the world forever. Adam really loved that about him.

            He followed behind John as he started walking up the steps to one of the houses, knocking on the door briskly. Adam stood behind him, waiting. He hated rain, but he’d rather be outside now more then ever. This party was something he had not been looking forward to. He just wanted to go home and sit on the couch with John and watch television and unwind and do nothing. He sighed thinking about doing nothing with John. It was so relaxing doing nothing with John and it usually ended with Adam in John’s lap, just like the first time. They hadn’t really moved beyond that, which Adam was fine with, after all, it always felt good but he found himself thinking about other activities they could do together too. Adam bit his lip as the door opened, the light from inside flooding out onto the wet street, ripping him out of his fantasy.

            “I didn’t think you’d actually show up, man.” A stocky man answered the door, he was shorter then John, he waved them both inside quickly, “Get in out of that shit!” Adam followed John up the brick stairs and into the row house. It was wider then John’s, older, it was in a different neighborhood after all. They all varied from area to area, this Adam knew, but as he lowered his hood and started to unfurl his scarf from around his face he realized that this one was very different. It was totally renovated but they had kept all the nice touches: the wooden stairs, the marble entry floor, the crown molding, and the stain glass window in the front. Adam could look around and tell this was not the average row home: this was a Bolton Hill row home.

            “It’s your birthday, Mike, so I figured I should stop by. You know, make sure you’re not drinking yourself into an oblivion.” John laughed and so did Mike, who was holding a half empty beer. Adam watched closely from behind John, his eyes watched as John chatted with this short, round man in a terrible outfit: jeans, a green t-shirt with some kind of logo on it, no shoes or slippers, just socks. He had brown hair, it was plain and thin and lanky, not like Johns, all thick and everywhere. Adam took in everything while John chatted. The way the house was laid out, the food, the people milling around, the women, the men, the way people kept glancing at him. Adam couldn’t help it; this whole affair was making him nervous. He decided to keep his scarf on, like armor. His fingers kept weaving and clasping together. He kept edging closer to John.

            “Hey, I’m Mike, thanks for coming,” the short man had moved closer to Adam, leaning in towards him, offering his hand in greeting. Adam nodded and shook his hand, “You’re welcome. I’m Adam! Happy Birthday. It’s nice to meet you.” His voice came out perfectly, crisp and clear; no one would have any indication that he hated crowds; he just wanted to go home. He always was good at acting. Mike nodded to him in thanks and turned back to John, they were quietly talking now. Mike, with his one hand still clasped firmly around his beer, and the other hand tucked neatly into his pocket.

            John and Mike began to stroll into the larger crowd and most of the people came over to speak with John. They shook his hand or clapped him on the shoulder in a friendly way; some of the women hugged him. They were all loud and talkative, they all had beers or drinks in their hands, some of them had small plates with food or cake on them. They all stood idly by John and chatted, laughed, some people hollered at jokes or made a joke about how John never joked, then they would all hoot with laughter. Adam stood behind him, carefully watching and taking it all in. He’d never met any of these people, though they seemed nice enough, but Adam could feel his hackles rising. He felt threatened, as if these people knew John better then he did, like they might be closer to John then he was: it was as if they all knew something about John that Adam wouldn’t ever know. Adam tried to keep his face as straight as possible; his hands remained in his pockets as much as he could manage it. John kept introducing Adam but he had to shake people’s hands and forcing a plastic smile across his face.

            It wasn’t long before the crowd began to dissipate around John. People went back to what they had been doing: chatting in smaller circles of friends and coworkers, playing on their phones idly, they milled to the tables covered in food and an already cut cake where half of the word, ‘birthday’ was gone. Adam surveyed the room wordlessly, John continued talking with Mike; their voices were soft murmurs mingling with the buzz of the crowd. Someone was walking towards them, Adam watched him not excuse himself and simply push people on the shoulder as he was making a path to John. He was a red headed man, smooth dark red hair covered his head, he was taller then John but younger and less physically defined than John. Adam watched him suspiciously. The man approached quickly and received muted greeting from Mike and a head nod from John. He had a beer in one hand and was chewing on something as he spoke, his food clearly visible between his teeth; Adam grimaced. He spoke loudly and was brash. John wasn’t as friendly with this man as he had been with the others, when he spoke to this man Adam could feel a change sweep over John. Adam watched the new comer intently, stepping closer to John as he did, craning his neck somewhat to see the newcomers face. As though he seemed to have forgotten, the red headed man greeted John with a swift handshake and a laugh, telling him the same thing everyone else had, that he hadn’t expected to see John. But John simply shrugged: completely indifferent. John once again gestured to Adam, introducing him for the twentieth time that evening, to yet another person. Adam reached forward with his hand outstretched, rehearsed line at the ready, prepared to tell this young man the same thing he’d said all night to everyone else, _Hello, I’m Adam, it’s good to meet you._ His face hurt from smiling.

            “Whoa! Are you John’s kid?” The man pointed directly at Adam, his eyes going wide, his mouth hanging open as he stared between John and Adam for a moment. Adam’s eyes went wide as he stared at the red headed man, not sure what to say to such a question. He had been prepared for the usual conversation starter, he had been prepared to say his line and then stand aside. The red headed man turned away from Adam and back to John, “Shit, John, I didn’t know you had a kid!” The man laughed, throwing his head back as he did so. The man had obviously immediately dismissed Adam from the conversation. John gave him a tight, strained smile. Adam’s mouth went into a slight frown, he didn’t know what to say, his eyes flicked to John quickly and stayed there, boring holes into John’s face. He folded his arms in front of him; not ever wanting to shake this mans hand. This man who had insinuated such a horribly distorted weird thing from what they actually were. Adam looked down at his shoes for a moment, now feeling down in his gut: feeling violated for some reason.

            “Nope, no kids,” John’s voice was even and clear, he shook his head as he spoke, “Adam’s my date.” Adam was certain he felt his heart stop for a moment as he quickly turned as white as snow. His throat reflexively swallowed on its own, he could feel his face flush, betraying his shock. John stood steadfast, not moving a muscle; he stared straight ahead at the red headed man. Mike, still standing idly by, swirled his beer bottle in his meaty hand, looking down at it uneasily. The red headed man coughed out a huffing laugh, he bent forward slightly towards John, still laughing, as if trying to get John to tell him he was only joking. This was all a put-on.

            “Nah, John!” He laughed a but once more, “Man, that’s a real shitty joke, you know?” His face was starting to slacken and turn a soft ruddy red as he realized this wasn’t a prank, a jest, or a joke, no, John’s face revealed that it was nothing of the sort. He gave one last little huff of a laugh, artificial, as it seemed to be. His eyes jumped from John’s stern face to Mike’s downcast eyes, but he was pointedly ignoring Adam. There was a long pause in the conversation, the buzzing of the talk around them picking up, the background music in the room seemed to get louder for a brief moment, no one seemed to hear what had happened though. No heads were turning. No one was glaring at him.

            “I...uh, I don’t think that’s a joke, bud.” Mike said with a soft tone of finality, as he started to walk away into the crowd. He pulled the red headed man with him by the sleeve, the younger man kept turning and looking at John, his eyes squinted as Mike dragged him away; his red face wearing a pained expression as if he felt betrayed or duped somehow. John sighed through his nose and turned to Adam.

            “Who was that?” Adam finally asked; his voice was quiet. John put his hands in his pockets as he spoke.

            “One of the yard guys, they move shunting cars around.” John cleared his throat and walked back into the kitchen, Adam in tow. The kitchen was empty aside from plates of extra food and two people sitting outside on the back porch, smoking. They had their backs to the glass storm door, unaware of Adam and John. John picked rolled up tubes of thinly sliced meat directly from the tray and put it in his mouth, not bothering with a plate or a napkin. Adam raised his eyebrow as he spoke.

            “That doesn’t tell me who he was.” Adam tapped his boot on the floor, waiting, but John continued to eat, shrugging with his mouth full.

            “I don’t know his name or anything. Doesn’t sound like I want to, honestly.” John had begun to prey on the rolled up cheese then, unrolling the tubes of meat and rerolling the cheese into it, eating the whole thing in one fell swoop. He offered some to Adam, but he shook his head, his arms still crossed, his brow furrowed slightly, and his heart in his throat. He was struck with an inexplicit urge to find out why John said what he said. Was he really John’s date? Was it a joke, after all? Did John want him to be his date? Had he just said that to get that guy off his back? His stomach felt fluttery and his face felt warm beyond reason.

            “I don’t want to be here anymore.” Adam’s voice came out sharper then he had intended it. John nodded as he shoved one more piece of cheese into his mouth before gesturing to Adam to head back out into the living room.

            “Yeah, we can go home.” Adam’s face relaxed, he loved _home_ , “I really only wanted to be here for a couple minutes.” John grabbed a tomato off the display and popped it into his mouth, “Come on.” Leaving was quicker then arriving. John said one last ‘Happy Birthday’ to Mike and shook his hand; one woman with long red hair came over and thanked John for coming. Some other people waved him off, someone said it was nice to meet Adam, he smiled and responded with a trite, ‘you too’, before following John outside into the rain.

            Walking to the car was uneventful. Adam walked along beside John, the rain hitting the hood of his coat and his eyes downcast at his boots. He wanted to ask his burning questions, but he knew now was not a good time. Not here, on a serene residential sidewalk in Bolton Hill with cars quietly moseying by. They walked down to where the truck was parked and Adam saw the flash of its headlights, he jumped in and buckled his seat belt, turning his seat heater on again. He had been quiet since they left the party, he hadn’t said two words while they walked to the truck and John kept glancing over at every red light the truck stopped for. Adam had crunched himself up into a ball in his seat, deep in thought, his head resting against the window, leaving a foggy mess from the temperature difference of his scalp and the outside world.

            Arriving to John’s was as it always had been. Adam closed his eyes and waited for the inevitable impact of the nose of that truck against that concrete wall. John laughed when it never happened. Adam shrugged John’s laughter off, saying he wasn’t used to it yet, that he might never get used to it. As the truck came to a stop on the parking pad, Adam grabbed his bag and jumped out, slamming the door behind. He followed John inside, letting his bag fall to the floor, as it had for the past two months, taking his boots off and leaving them by the door just as he had been, and hanging his coat up on the hook behind the door. His scarf stayed on, he was hiding behind it and he knew it. A part of him was waiting for John to call him on it, say something, ask him to take it off, but John had retreated to checking his mail. It was all in a big pile on the kitchen counter, Adam knew it was all bills because he had gone through it and thrown out the large amount of junk mail and magazines, leaving only the bills for John to look at. John hadn’t seemed to notice, but Adam didn’t mind; he loved helping John, he liked proving himself useful.

            John was looking down at the envelopes, muttering to himself. Adam was biting his scarf and shifting about on his socked feet, “John?” He spoke through his scarf. John’s eye coasted upwards to look at Adam, fixing him to his spot, “Adam?” He responded with the same tone Adam had used and this irked Adam.

            “Ugh, I hate when you do that!” He flung himself down onto the stool at the kitchen counter, taking the moment to pull his scarf down around his neck properly, so it wasn’t covering his mouth. John smiled, gathering up a few envelopes, walking to the trashcan, and ripping them up before dumping them in.

           “Why do you think I do it?” John whispered as he walked past him, heading to the stairs, Adam squirmed slightly on the stool before following. Watching John go up the stairs two at a time, white socks sliding on the wood; it was amazing he hadn’t fallen. John’s room was as Adam had last seen it: clothes on the floor, the laundry basket overrun with dirty jeans and shirts and socks, an unmade bed, the television on. Adam bit the inside of his mouth, he loved lying in bed with John. Everything was so simple there. There was no Russian Embassy after him, no roommate troubles, no worries about rent, no job, no school, just him and John and that was really a nice change. It had become a place where Adam could turn his brain off.

            John started to take his jeans off, reaching for the sweatpants he’d left on the floor from that morning. Adam sat down on the edge of the bed, John sitting down beside him, propping himself up against the headboard. He sighed, his one hand reaching for the television remote; the other finding its way to Adam’s belt loops, tugging on him to be closer.

            “What are we?” Adam blurted out as he felt John’s fingers in his belt loops, trying to silently pull Adam into him. His chest was tight and he could feel the heat rising in his face, he urgently wanted to put his hands on his cheeks to cool them. John’s fingers didn’t still though, he simply tugged Adam closer; he grunted slightly as he was dragged across the sheet. He tried to resist, pulling away, causing John to release his grip and lean back against the pillows, a look of puzzlement on his face.

            “What do you mean?” John finally asked; his voice was deep as it always was, but his eye was watching Adam closer then usual. His lips slightly parted as he stared. Adam bit his lip and looked down at his hands in his lap. He felt stupid, but he needed to know.

            “I was just wondering what we were.” Adam gestured between himself and John with his index finger, he looked away at the far wall. He hated this part; he closed his eyes and sighed through his nose, waiting for something: rejection, confirmation, a vague bullshit phrase about how he didn’t know, anything.

            “I uh…I thought,” John rubbed the back of his neck, a frown on his features as if he was forcing the words out, “you were my date and you know,” John’s voice sounded far off, “all that…entails.” The room went quiet; it felt like all the air had been removed. Adam turned around, crawling towards John from his seated position on the edge of the bed. He was within a few inches.

            “What does it all entail, John?” Adam whispered, almost to himself, his eyes scanning John’s face, his fingers reaching out to John’s shirt, twisting it. John glanced around the room, down to his shirt, his eyes bouncing from one corner to the next, finally landing back on Adam.

            “Just…being together. Like…how we are, all the time.” John smiled awkwardly, his face going pink, his gaze skirting around Adam, again.

            “Being together.” Adam repeated, his fingers tight in John’s shirt now, his tongue licking at his bottom lip as he scooted closer to John, “So...am I like…your boyfriend?” Adam grinned at him, his eyes going wide and expectant. He needed to hear it. He wanted to hear it. He was thrumming with want now. John’s gaze met Adam’s and he tilted his head somewhat.

            “Yeah, I guess…I’ve never had a boyfriend before though.” John laughed and ran a hand through his brown hair. Adam leaned into him, his forehead pressing against John’s chest. He nuzzled into John’s shirt, kissing John’s chest through the fabric, muttering, “Me either.” His hands started acting on their own, pushing and pulling John’s shirt up, his lips descending on John’s stomach, he could feel the hair there brushing his lips as he went.

            “Adam…” John muttered, his fingers in Adam’s hair, trying to look at his face, but Adam’s mouth was peppering John’s stomach with kisses.

            “Just let me,” Adam whispered, his own voice stifled by John’s skin as he kissed it with frenzied lips. John’s fingers didn’t slacken in Adam’s hair; they gripped tighter, Adam’s lips descending John’s form. Reaching the waistband of John’s sweatpants, he stopped, his breathing ragged. He looked up at John, meeting his one blue eye, John panting, his thumb lightly brushing Adam’s hair. They gazed at one another for a moment until Adam slid out of John’s grasp and onto the floor, on his knees. John began to protest just as Adam beckoned to him.

            “This way,” Adam crooked his finger at John, who grinned like a teenage boy and sat up, swinging his legs off the bed so that his feet were planted firmly on the floor. Adam stared ahead of him at John’s groin and saw the bulge there. He started to pull at the hem of John’s sweatpants. John lifted his hips and helped to get them down to his feet where Adam pulled them the rest of the way off and threw them onto the floor. John’s bulge more prominent then ever in his black boxer shorts. Adam looked up and saw John staring at him eagerly.

            Adam pushed his face forward and nuzzled John’s cock through the fabric, lightly at first. He was testing the waters. He gave it a kiss through its soft cotton confines and made eye contact. John sighed as he watched Adam, his fingers gliding into Adam’s short blonde hair again, holding on lightly, and rubbing with his thumb. Adam started to ease his fingers into the hem of John’s boxers, peeling them away from John’s body. John assisted him by lifting his hips again and letting Adam slide them down and off. Adam watched as John’s cock stood at attention. He couldn’t help himself though, he had to wrap his hand around its girth and give it a few strokes. This is what they’d been doing since the first time they’d kissed, Adam thought to himself, as he slid his hand up and down John’s cock gently. John had thrown his head back and he was biting his bottom lip, groaning. John’s fingers were still in Adam’s hair, trying to guide his mouth where he wanted it.

            The carpet was rough under Adam’s knees, causing red marks, but he didn’t care, he just wanted to touch John. Adam licked his lips; he’d done this before, but never with someone like John and never with John. This was so new and fiery and heady and electrifying. Adam felt the blood rush to his own cock and he groaned, palming himself through his jeans. Gripping John’s length, he unzipped his jeans and pulled himself out, jerking off quietly and quickly as he leaned in towards John’s cock. His lips were wet as he enveloped John’s tip, his tongue busily working on the small slit. John’s fingers were tight in his hair again; Adam’s lips stretched over John’s cock, sliding up and down that thick rod. John kept rocking his hips, propelling his cock into Adam’s mouth but Adam didn’t mind, letting John slide deeper into his throat. John looked down at Adam, his eye cracking open. John hissed through his teeth when Adam moved his head, bouncing lewdly on his cock. Spit dribbled down John’s length as Adam busied himself on it. His hand moving quickly around his own cock, Adam pumped himself with gusto as he sucked on John, hollowing his cheeks, making a symphony of wet sounds. Faster and wetter and hotter, he just kept moving his mouth with an intensity he’d never done before, his tongue lapping at the crown quickly, making John squirm. Adam pulled off for a moment and panted, his eyes glued to that thick shaft in front of him. He was breathless as he stared, licking his pink lips.

            “Adam…” John murmured, his fingers very tight in Adams hair, his cock looked like it was going to burst, it was so red and rigid. It glistened from Adam’s spit. Adam’s hand was pumping himself, jerking off as he licked John’s cock from the base to the tip with the flat broadside of his tongue. Swirling his tongue around the crown rapidly as his lithe hand mimicked the movements of his tongue around his own cock. It was hard to hold on though; Adam let John’s cock sink into his throat repeatedly. Swallowing him down as he quickly jerked himself off. He moaned around John’s member and John moaned with him. He was seemingly lost in pleasure now. Adam closed his eyes, unable to hold on anymore and he shuddered as he came into his own hand, his hips moving rapidly with his own orgasm as it rolled through him.

            Now both of John’s hands were in his blonde hair, and they were hurriedly guiding Adam’s mouth up and down. John had obviously had enough teasing and techniques, he wanted to come. Adam moaned around it, letting the vibrations of his throat work their magic and John had a sharp intake of breath, undulating his hips. Adam’s tongue wrapped around the tip and the rubbed back and forth with a loving ferocity; John had both hands on either side of Adam’s head, moving him up and down. He let out a profound, long moan and rocked his hips into Adam’s mouth, emptying himself down Adam’s throat. He kept letting out little groans and moans as Adam wouldn’t let go, his lips still locked around the very tip of John’s cock, sucking and licking teasingly. John hissed through his teeth, rubbing Adam’s face gently with his thumb. Adam pulled off of John and leaned back on his haunches. His face was pink and his lips were red from working so hard. He wiped his mouth of with the back of his hand, letting it fall to his jeans as he tried to catch his breath. John leaned back onto the bed, his cock flaccidly hanging between his legs now, satisfied beyond measure.

            “Come here,” John said thickly. Adam sat up and took off his jeans, leaving them on the floor. He crawled up John’s body and lay on top of him, draping over him like a cape. They were nose to nose when John kissed him, both of his hands on Adam’s hips, thumbs lightly stroking the tops of Adam’s round, pink cheeks.

            “I’m glad you told him I was your date.” Adam laid his head down on John’s chest as he spoke, feeling John’s lips brush against his hair; he smiled. He could hear John’s breathing returning to normal, his heartbeat coming down from the high it had been pumping at before. John’s arms wound around him tightly as he spoke.

            “Me too.” John sighed into Adam’s hair; he could feel how hot John’s breath was on his scalp. He closed his eyes and nuzzled gently into John’s chest, loving how warm he always was; Adam felt incredibly safe, his eyes now beginning to close.

            “I was grossed out though,” Adam said softly as John gave a tired laugh, his right hand rubbing Adam’s back lightly, “I don’t look remotely like you. Why even ask that?” Adam turned his head to look at John, his chin resting on John’s chest; he realized that he could rub his nose in John’s beard from this angle. John shifted under him slightly, his head still lying flat on the bed as he spoke, “Nah, we don’t look alike at all.” John’s fingers were running through Adam’s hair, creating a soothing rhythm, “It’s probably cause you look a little younger then me.” Adam closed his eyes again, laying his head back down on John’s chest, feeling it rise and fall with the other mans breathing.

            “How old are you, John?” Adam’s voice was gentle and muted; his fingers were rubbing the sides of John’s neck as he spoke. He pushed himself up farther so his head was just under John’s chin, John’s hands had found their way back around Adam’s form, holding him close.

            “29.” His voice was low. Adam had to fight the urge to fall asleep, his eyelids closing of their own volition. He yawned as he spoke, “I’m 20, so you’re not old enough to be my Dad.” Adam cuddled into John tighter, letting his eyes close. He could feel John’s warm hands on his back.

            “Definitely not old enough.” John chuckled as he yawned, patting Adam on the back as he scooted out from under him.

            “Where are you going? You’re warm and I was comfortable.” He muttered into the pillow as John pulled the covers down and slid under them.

            “What are you a cat?” John smiled wickedly as he held the covers up with one hand and patted the bed with the other. Adam grinned and crawled over, sliding into the covers, pressing his face against John’s chest again. He sighed into the fabric of John’s shirt, curling up against the other man, his eyes closed. John readjusted his pillows before flopping his head down onto them, his right arm winding its way over Adam’s hip. It didn’t take long for Adam to fall asleep there, tucked in tightly and safely against John. He could feel himself falling asleep, as he did all he could think about was how he never wanted to leave John and his warm bed. The letter in Adam’s bag briefly flickering into his thoughts unbidden and unwelcome as he finally slipped under to sleep.


	12. Confessions at 1:52 a.m.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam tells John something paramount, Adam has anxiety about it, and John helps to relieve said anxiety.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey Everyone!  
> Sorry this took so long. I had major writers block, so if any of this is shit, let me know and I'll work to fix it. Theres a big NSFW warning for this chapter. Anyway, have fun.

            On Adam’s list of the Nicest Things Ever, waking up next to John was very near the top. The television was silent, the traffic outside was a dull and distant thrum, and John’s breathing was right in Adam’s ear. Soft puffs of warm air grazing against him and running down the back of his neck. Adam shifted slightly, John was always very warm, and was the reason Adam didn’t need any blanket besides the sheet: John’s body heat output was like an industrial incinerator. Adam found himself, more often then not, sweating to death in John’s grip. This time, however, he was perfectly comfortable. Opening his eyes he saw John’s outstretched arm in front of him, he could hear John’s snoring behind him, and feel the other arm draped around his hips.

            He shifted slightly, getting closer, tilting his head backwards till he bumped the side of his head against John’s nose. Turning slightly, he touched his lips to John’s nose, leaving a small kiss there; he pushed against John’s face, nuzzling into him. John didn’t move. He simply slumbered onward, snoring lightly all the while. John was hard to wake up. He sprawled everywhere on the bed, taking up every inch of space and shedding the covers, banishing them to the floor. Adam slept curled up in a ball; his way was a great contrast to John’s starfish themed sleeping method. Adam slid from his spot on the bed, scooting along the white cotton sheets, to the edge. His feet made landfall with the rough Berber carpet, it was a plain shade of oatmeal.

            Twirling his feet around on the carpet for a moment, he stretched, his hands pointing to the ceiling, humming as he relaxed contentedly. He reached forward and checked the time on John’s phone, still sitting idle on the nightstand. It was 1:52 a.m. and the darkness outside was all consuming. The orange hue coloring the night sky could be seen, blotting out the stars above, but Adam could still see the falling rain getting caught in the street lamps, shimmering as it fell. The room was dark, the television having gone off hours ago. The only light peering into the room was the faint glow from the street lamps outside, the walls painted in the infrequent headlights of occasionally passing cars.

            Adam lay back down, crawling back to John, who was softly snoring, his mouth open against his pillow. Adam watched him sleep, brushing his dark hair off of his forehead as he pulled the sheet around himself. It was still warm under there, John’s body heat radiating off of him in waves. Adam slotted their knees together, getting close enough to tuck his head against John’s chest. He could feel John’s chest hair against his cheek, feel John’s breath puffing out against his hair, and hear his heart gently beating away. It was soothing.

            He bit his lip; his eyes open in the dark and his mind racing. Now thinking about how he should tell John about his situation. It had been in his mind since he checked the mail the day before. He knew it in his gut that he should tell John that he’d have to leave. He drew a circle in John’s chest hair with a lazy finger as he thought about how to break the news. Explain why he’s made a mistake. Why he’s gotten too close to someone, something he’d vowed never to do while he was here. He had been telling himself this same mantra time and time again for the past three and a half years so that he’d never be in this position. Trying to talk himself out of getting close to anyone and now here, he had gone and done it within the last three months. He hadn’t ever wanted to experience losing someone to time and distance and a cold-hearted embassy request. But here he was, after all his efforts not to be here. He snuggled into John’s chest a little closer, as close as he could without melding with the man. He couldn’t stop himself from sniffling a little too much and he couldn’t stop the moisture springing to his eyes. His chest felt tight all over again, his breath impeded in his throat, and he couldn’t stop his fingers from touching John. Ducking his head down tighter against John’s chest, he was trying to hide from the world and he knew it.

          “Hey,” Adam’s eyes shot open in the dark, his throat tightening. He could feel John wrapping an arm around his back, fingers leaving light traces on his skin. Adam arched into his touch, “what are you doing awake?” John’s voice was quiet, groggy, almost a whisper. His lips finding their way along Adams forehead and leaving gentle kisses in Adam’s messy blonde hair.

           “I just sort of woke up,” Adam said quietly, pushing his face up into John’s neck, hiding there, and hoping John didn’t notice the tears in his eyes or hear the lump in his throat. John moved, pulling the sheets up higher on them both. In the dark, all Adam could do was listen to John moving on the sheets, pulling Adam closer. He wanted nothing more then to be encapsulated by John’s arms, safe and sound. His mind drifted off, thinking of having to go home, having to leave all of this, this place, this feeling: this man. But trying to hold it in wasn’t doing him any favors and he knew it. He swallowed audibly and drew in a breath. He had to say something.

           “Do you know anything about student Visas?” He blurted out into the darkness. Expecting John to laugh or shake his head or maybe even make a face. But John didn’t move; he remained still, simply breathed in and out slowly, waiting. Adam was tingling all over with nerves, he was worried that John had fallen back to sleep and that his anxiety was all for nothing. For a moment, he feared that John hadn’t heard him whatsoever and that now he’d have to ask John again later, in the daylight and be face to face and it would awful because Adam knew he’d cry and he didn’t want John to see him like that and-

           “Not a whole lot, why?” Johns voice was comforting in the dark. Adam let out his breath, sighing into John’s chest before he spoke. His running thoughts stilled.

           “I have a student Visa. You know, to be here.” John hummed in agreement; Adam continued as he twirled John’s chest hair nervously with his index finger, “It’s going to expire this August, if I graduate in May.” John’s hand kept moving on Adam’s back, he continued to rub idle circles into Adam’s skin. His breathing did not change, his voice did not waiver, John was always constant and Adam loved that.

          “Okay.” Adam blinked in the dark, his finger stilling in John’s chest hair.

          “Okay? Aren’t you…aren’t you upset or anything?” He asked, his voice rising.

          “I’m sure there’s a way around it.” John’s fingers moved through Adam’s hair. Adam lay there, stunned, reduced to blinking.

          “There is no way around this.” Adam’s voice achieved its most cutting tone while he spoke, “You can’t fix this, John. This _is_ what it _is_. I’m going to have to leave.” He jerked his head out from under John’s soothing hand. Pushing himself away from John’s chest by several inches, holding himself farther away. This wasn’t where he wanted to be; he wanted to be in John’s arms again, under John’s hands, against John’s chest: forever. Where it was warm and safe and the sheets weren’t cold, where he could turn his brain off and stop the constant over thinking. John sighed and folded a pillow up, laying his head on it, his one blue eye could be seen in the dark, shimmering and slightly obscured. He held his hand out to Adam, his fingertips barely touching Adam’s pale skin; he pulled his head back more, like a cat not wanting to be petted, trying to get away, trying to hide. John drew in an audible breath in the dark.

          “You knew this whole time?” John tucked his arm up under the pillow, his other arm drawing back against his own chest. There was a rift between them. Not just a physical one, but an emotional one and Adam could feel it. Only a few physical inches to be sure, but it felt like a million heart-felt miles. Adam pulled the sheets up higher around his shoulders, burying himself in them, laying his head down on the pillow, staring ahead at John. His throat felt tight, his face was burning. He was so worried and wrecked, he’d been thinking about it since he found the letter. Knowing that he’d have to say something, that John might be hurt by it; that he’d eventually have to leave John behind. It made his heart hurt. Everything ached. He licked his lips before speaking.

          “I thought I could get out of it or that maybe they’d forget about me,” he gave a sarcastic chuckle, “it was stupid. They’d never forget. I should have told you from the get go.” He picked at the sheets idly. John remained silent and still as Adam continued to talk.

          “There’s this part of me that thought maybe, you know, maybe that you could do something. Or that you’d know what to do.” Adam paused and pushed himself farther into the sheets.

          “It’s not stupid,” Adam looked up at John then as he continued, “Why’d you think that?” John asked, still not moving, simply lying there: waiting and watching. Adam’s mouth worked around words he started to say, wanted to say, but then shut his mouth with an audible click of his teeth.

          “It’s completely based on some silly feeling and ridiculous and just,” Adam rolled his eyes noticeably, “it’s just…I don’t know, it’s-” John cut him off with a grin and his gravelly voice.

          “So?” John’s hand slid across the bed, closing the distance between them. His voice was just above a whisper, that deep rumbling tone rattling through Adam’s head. He picked at the sheet some more, despite there not being anything to really pick at. He sighed and curled in on himself a little bit more, only to feel John’s hand on his, John’s thick index finger tapping on the back of his hand, waiting. Adam’s eyes skirted down to the fingers tapping at his own hand, watching the way it went from an impatient, pressing, to several, even, soothing fingers at once, gliding along the back of his hand. Adam noticed the difference between John’s tan skin and his own pale coloration. How thin his fingers were and how thick John’s were. How his own were so smooth and well maintained and how John’s were hardened and coarse, though his finger tips and palms were soft and warm.

          “I don't know, it's just…it’s the way you walk,” Adam caught his bottom lip in his teeth, feeling exposed. As he thought about the day before, walking behind John and watching him walk ahead. The way John was like one of those Arctic Ocean ships, the ones that break up the thick, blue ice; those seemingly unstoppable work horses of the ocean. Adam turned his own hand over, catching John’s hand in his grip, rubbing idly with his thumb, “You just always walk like you could walk forever.” Adam closed his eyes for a moment, a luxurious grin spreading across his features, “Like nothing could hurt you or stop you. I don’t know, I guess, I envy that a little.” Adam fell silent. John didn’t move. They lay like that for some time; hands clasped together, the silence of the room enveloping them both. John finally stirred, his hand moving up Adam’s arm, getting a better grip as he pulled Adam to him.

           Adam laughed, but knew that fighting wouldn’t work, so he allowed himself to be pulled the few inches between them. Closing the gap, his other hand coming up to land on John’s chest. Their foreheads were almost touching. Adam ran his fingers through John’s hair in the dark, his hand stilling on the back of John’s neck. John drew in a breath.

           “I can’t really do anything,” Adam felt his chest tighten at John’s words, but he nodded, knowing that John was right, “I’m sure there’s something that can be done. I just don’t know what it is right now.” A sad smile spread across Adam’s face.

           “Yeah,” He huffed out a laugh and leaned his head down, against John’s neck, savoring the moment. Knowing one day he wouldn’t be able to nuzzle into John, or lay down next to him, to watch television with him, or do anything more then talk to him; the geographical distance between them in the future would be vast and feel as though it went on forever. Adam stared ahead at John’s chest, his smile faded, “Maybe I should never have put my phone number on the cup.”

           John furrowed his brow, “Why not?”

          “Then leaving wouldn’t be hard.” Adam clenched his jaw, he could feel his back teeth grinding as he tried to fight how bad it felt. He glanced up at John’s face: his mouth was a straight line, hidden partially by his thick beard; his lone, blue eye stared. John’s arm wound around Adam, “I’m glad you did.” Adam smiled again, feeling John’s fingertips graze his backside; he tried to pull away, bumping his hips into John’s under the covers.

            “It tickles! Don’t!” He laughed as he threw his leg over John’s, getting closer by the second, trying to escape the light, teasing touches, his skin getting goose bumps where John’s arm grazed his skin delicately. John smiled at him, pushing his forehead against Adam’s. The closer they got the tighter Adam’s chest became, the harder his heart beat, his fingers digging into John’s skin; John’s hand stilled on the small of Adam’s back. They lay like that, in motionless reserve. Adam couldn’t stop thinking about how comfortable he was. How everything felt consistent and seemed to fit together perfectly, how relaxed he was, and how he could turn everything off, just tune the outside world out of his head. John’s hand made lazy, slow circles on Adam’s back, gently moving down to just above Adam’s pert, pink cheeks.

            Adam ran his hand up along John’s neck, his fingers running through John’s dark hair. He pushed himself flush to the other man’s form, the sheets clinging to him, following him as he moved. John’s hand moved lower, still moving with gentle, purposeful touches. Adam wiggled his whole self, his voice going up, and laughter permeating his words, “Come on. Please don’t tickle me!” John laughed, pushing his hand firmly against Adam’s skin, creating more complete friction, cupping one cheek with his hand, then the other. It was deliberate and methodical, the way John moved, the way his hands dragged across Adam’s flushed skin. The way Adam could feel callouses on John’s hand, and the way John pulled here and squeezed there: every part of him was coming to life. Adam biting his lip, his fingers tightening in John’s hair and Adam’s one leg still draped over John’s tightened. He could feel John’s breath on his neck and his voice in his ear, “I’m glad you put your number on the cup,” John’s lips pressed heatedly to the shell of Adam’s ear. He had to fight not to crumble in on himself when he felt those warm lips against his skin. He could feel John’s fingers prying him apart, pulling one cheek away from the other, a rough index finger rubbing gently against his opening. Adam tensed up, pushing himself against John, pulling himself away from that finger on instinct. Adam’s voice sounded breathless and rushed. No one had ever done this before.

            “But…if I hadn’t done it,” he tried to speak but was distracted by John’s hot kisses and possessive licks, “then all this wouldn’t hurt so bad,” John’s lips were insistent, catching little nibbles of Adam’s neck, teeth grazing gently against soft, pale skin. Adam gulped and felt hot all over, needing and wanting whatever John was willing to give. John’s finger still pressing insistently against his opening, rubbing back and forth, Adam naturally pushed his hips backwards against the touch. John groaned just as he spoke.

            “I’m sure there’s a solution,” John was panting in his ear now, tongue leaving a nice, long trail up the column of Adam’s neck. He let out a sigh; it was shaky and soft. John brought his hand up from Adam’s cheeks and sucked on his middle finger. Adam was having a hard time concentrating, instead kissing and biting at John’s neck, feeling the other man’s stubble on his own lips. He felt John’s rough finger back at his entrance, “No,” Adam’s voice was low and gasping, “not like this.” John let him go in an instant, Adam laying down on his back in a heartbeat, pulling his legs up and grinning at John, who slid down the mattress, becoming level with Adam’s cock. Adam suddenly felt very self-conscious, his legs up around his own sides, John’s face down between his legs; he could feel John’s breathe on his most intimate of intimates. John’s fingers pulling him apart; Adam listening for that soft wet sucking sound as John’s lips wrapped around his own finger, again. Adam knew what was happening, he knew John was going to pave the way, but it was almost too much. A part of him was terrified about the consequences; worried that all of this would make up for just another experience. Just another person he did things with, now that he was being forced to leave, now that he was terrified he’d never see John again.

            His mind stopped working when he felt John kissing down his thighs, the soft skin transmitting every feeling to his brain in volumes. He tried to crane his head to see, but it was all for naught. All he could do was feel the way John’s beard left a scratching trail on his pale skin, little red lines here and there, warm lips and a hot tongue surging down his flesh. He ended up throwing his head back onto the pillow and gave a quiet, mewl when he felt something hot and wet on his opening. His hand traveled down to John’s head, his fingers weaving tightly in John’s hair, simply holding on. No one had ever done this to him. Adam kept letting out little moans. He was turning red everywhere and he could feel it spreading from his scalp to his toes like a heat wave. John’s tongue was all encompassing and it wasn’t long before Adam felt that familiar prod of a finger, John’s rough, calloused finger at his entrance, pushing gently, but insistently. Adam drew in a breath and bit his lip again, letting out a groan, and covering his eyes with the crook of his arm. His legs hurt as he held them up for John, he found himself couching down onto the mattress, pushing against it with his lower back, giving himself to John entirely. He’d never had anyone else in him; only himself, his toy, his fingers and he knew his fingers weren’t as big as Johns. He was nervous; he knew his toy wasn’t as big as John either.

           “ _Ooohh_ …” Adam gave out a whimper, feeling John’s finger pop inside of him. He gasped, this was like nothing else he’d ever had. It was so intimate and real and John was down _there_ doing things to him. He was so tense, John’s single finger feeling so much bigger then he thought it would. Adam gripped the sheets with his free hand, his other arm still draped over his eyes. He kept letting out happy little sounds of approval. He could feel John’s lips still planting kisses on his legs, coming very near his cock but not quite, John’s adamant finger still pressing inside, stretching him. It wasn’t long before Adam found himself pushing down onto John’s hand, wanting more but not getting it. He kept shuddering and giving quivering breathes, John’s mouth still lightly wandering around his milky thighs. He felt John’s finger retreat, heard more wet sounds for a brief moment before feeling the presence of two of John’s fingers at his entrance. He gave a loud groan as he gave way, “Fuck, _John_.”

           Adam had never felt anything like this; two of John’s fingers spreading him open and he didn’t know how he was going to take John’s cock if this was just two of his fingers. He kept pushing down onto them though, impaling himself, wanting more, wanting it all, everything, _John_. Adam’s legs were sore and he desperately wanted to touch himself, feeling himself split open wide by the intrusion. It was an incredible feeling of being full and it felt so good. He wanted all of it. He’d never felt anything this well before, this completely.

           “Jesus, Adam,” he heard John mutter, his kisses on Adam’s thighs getting more intense, tongue sneaking out to leave a long wet trail. Adam’s cock was standing at attention and it took every ounce of determination not to beg for John to touch him or to let him touch himself. Something in the possessive way John kissed and bit him told him not to reach for his own cock. A part of him wanted to see what was going to happen, he didn’t want to rush this: it felt so good. He kept closing his eyes and moaning, wanting so badly for more, everything, all. He felt John shift. They stared at one another for one blissful moment before Adam’s eyes widened. He watched with rapt attention as John’s tongue licked Adam’s cock from the base to the tip slowly, with incredible care. Adam’s mouth fell open, his eyes rolled back into his head, his fingers grabbed at John’s hair and he let out a high moan.

           “ _Fuck_...” Adam reverently whispered as John’s mouth reached his tip and sucked softly, his tongue flicking the dark pink end as it was caught in his mouth; the skin so soft and sensitive. Adam’s fingers dug deeper into John’s hair, holding him there, hoping he didn’t let go. Adam’s hips kept rocking forwards. John’s fingers going deeper, until they couldn’t go anymore, and his mouth latching on and sucking and licking, saliva dripping down Adam’s length. Adam’s eyes were half closed; it felt so good, he’d always been the one to give, hardly ever receiving. But this was John, with his mouth around his everything and it was perfect. He knew in that moment that if he died right after this, he’d die happy. He tilted his head up somewhat, he wanted to see, he wanted to watch John suck him down. He could see John’s unoccupied hand jerking himself, moving along his length in his sweatpants. Adam moaned at the sight. John sucking him, fingering him, and getting off to it, it was too much.

           “I’m…I’m gonna…” his eyes closed, his words started to bleed together, “ _ohh_ , John...” Adam whispered into the dark, but John didn’t stop. Adam felt his entire body tense, his hips pushed forward, he held his breathe, his eyes closed as he came in John’s waiting mouth. He could feel himself clenching around John’s fingers as he came, letting out a long, high pitched moan: it was euphoric. John’s hand started to move faster on himself as Adam came down from his high, blissfully unconscious of his surroundings. Adam’s fingers lost their grip in John’s hair; his legs relaxed and fell back against the bed. John’s fingers slid out of him, mouth popping off of his cock. He could feel the bed rocking slightly with the power of John’s hand, as it busied itself between his own legs, pumping up and down with passionate rapidity. Adam watched through half lidded eyes, thoroughly satiated as John gave a heavy groan, spilling over into his own hand, inside his sweatpants. His head fell forward against Adam’s thigh and he closed his eyes.

           The room’s dark silence was pervaded by the sounds of trembling breathing. Neither of them moved from their positions. Adam didn’t want to say anything to ruin the mood, the afterglow was unreal; the way John was laying against his thigh, how warm John was, not to mention how happy and satisfied Adam felt. But he had to know, it had been so good; John’s mouth around him and John’s fingers in him, just being all encompassed by John.

          “You ever done that before?” Adam’s voice croaked out of his throat as he stared upwards at the ceiling, his breathing easy now, and his whole self relaxed.

          “Nope,” John didn’t stir, his breath still warm against Adam’s leg.

          “Could’ve fooled me,” Adam gave the softest laugh, reaching down and running his fingers through John’s hair. He felt John’s arm wrap around his leg, holding on. John didn’t say anything, simply clung to Adam’s leg, pulling him closer, John’s beard still scratching at his skin. He felt John begin to speak before he heard it, the inhalation of a breath, “You know what you said earlier?” Adam raised an eyebrow, tensing his fingers in John’s hair; responding with a simple “Hmm?”

          “There are things that can stop me.” His voice was dark and gravelly; Adam could feel him speaking, his chest rumbling against his leg. John spoke as though this was his greatest confession, his hand rubbing Adam’s leg idly as he spoke.

           “I know, John,” Adam said quietly, his fingers scratching softly at John’s scalp, “it just seems like nothing could stop you. I mean…I know that you’re only human, but…it’s hard to think about something hurting you.” John stirred finally, tilting his head upwards in the dark, his lone eye trying to focus on Adam.

          “Why is that hard?” Adam could hear the wind outside and the rain, pitter-pattering on the window. The traffic going by causing that far off splashing sound as the tires hit the water with speed and efficiency. Adam drew in a breath, his fingers gripping John’s hair a little tighter. His eyes open wide, staring blindly through the dark at the ceiling.

           “You’re so constant and sure and strong.” Adam said in a singsong tone, “It’s really incredible.” Adam’s tone lowering, as though embarrassed that he thought so highly of another person. John grunted as he nodded his head against Adam’s leg, but Adam couldn’t tell if it was really a nod or nuzzling. His fingers kept running in John’s hair, gently rubbing his scalp as they lay there in the dark, listening to the rain outside and the splashing of cars as they rolled by. John kept gripping Adam’s leg, his face still pressed against it, his beard constantly scratching every time he moved. Adam smiled to himself, slowly drifting away into sleep, wondering how he could fix his problem. Or if he ever really could, if he was stuck, or if he’d never see John again past August. He had started petting John’s hair; listening to John softly snoring as he slept on, his shaggy head resting on Adam’s leg still. Adam was left alone, awake in the dark, slowly giving way to sleep, this time a smile on his face, despite his gnawing predicament.


	13. The Saturday Bath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam and John take a bath together, John learns about laundry, and Adam discovers some new things about himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took a while. I was writing it under emotional duress and I shouldn't have. So, naturally, it dragged it out longer. Sorry for the wait on this. Anyway, as usual, feel free to comment here or on my tumblr and let me know if you had a grand time this chapter or not.

           The sun had come shining in far too early. The windows in John’s room had no blinds. They opened out directly onto the small side street. Adam had thought on why John wouldn’t have some kind of window covering, but came to the conclusion that John simply didn’t care. Adam smiled into his pillow, stretching out on the bed, reaching his hands up to the top and his feet down to the bottom, realizing he was alone. He sighed through his nose, thinking of the early morning hours spent with John: the way they had collided, how happy he was, how much he had wanted that. Everything had melted together into a blurry, obscure image of pleasure. Adam opened one eye, scanning the room for signs of John, seeing none, he sat up, yawning. The sheet pooled around his hips as he sat up and rubbed his eyes. Turning to the night stand, he grabbed his phone, looking at the time: 11:16 a.m. Saturday.

            His feet touched down once more on the oatmeal colored carpet, he searched for his sweatpants. Only to find them in a puddle on the floor with his shirt, he pulled the clothes on. His hair ruffling as he pulled his shirt over his head. Trying to balance on one foot as he hopped into his pants, hoping he didn’t fall over in the process. Finally, fully clothed, he padded out into the hall and downstairs in his bare feet. The wooden steps stuck to the bottoms of his feet, he could hear the television distantly below him. He was nervous to see John again. They had done it all in the secrecy of the night and he hadn’t had to look John in the eye yet. He put his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants, feeling the fabric stick to his palms. His feet moving slowly over the steps, reaching the bottom, the television becoming louder and louder with each step forward.

            John was sprawled out on the couch, asleep. The back of his head resting against the arm of the sofa, socked feet crossed at the ankles, his mouth hanging open, one arm dangling down off the side, his finger tips just grazing the floor. His other arm settled nicely in his lap, palm facing upwards. Adam watched closely, John had to be sound asleep. Adam couldn’t stop himself from smiling at the sight. He was snoring, his breath catching in his throat every so often, only to be disturbed by a deep sigh. Adam walked closer. He turned the television volume down, watching John not move or make a noise as the volume was lowered: he slept like a rock. Adam walked away into the kitchen, digging in all the cupboards, looking for coffee and something to eat. He found a mug and reheated old coffee from that morning. Every so often peering around the corner and into the living room, watching John sleep the early afternoon away.

            Adam found cream cheese in the fridge, jelly, and some English muffins. He set about making his own breakfast as John soundly snored in the other room, the television now a dull buzz as he waited on English muffins from the toaster. He was perfectly content rummaging through John’s kitchen. During his search he found old boxes, packets of food and ingredients alike, all expired and so all were thrown out. One after the other tumbling into the trash, he was pleased, it had created room in the cupboards and given him something to do while he waited for the toaster to finish. Sitting on the stool at the kitchen counter, reading an old automobile magazine that was in the mail pile, Adam ate quietly. John continued to sleep in the other room and Adam didn’t have the heart to wake him, so he cleaned up his own dishes along with the others in the sink, placing them into the dishwasher. He organized John’s mail again, separating his bills and his junk mail into two distinct groups. It was only when he started the dishwasher and was cleaning the kitchen counter with a warm rag that he found himself laughing at his weekend afternoon. He was doing the same thing here that he did at work, he had even emptied the coffee pot and cleaned it out. He rung the rag out and draped it over the middle portion of the sink, the dishwasher whirring away.

            He took his coffee cup into the other room, John wasn’t snoring as loudly, but the television was mindlessly playing commercials. Adam sat on the end of the couch, trying not to disturb John’s feet, curling up on himself at the opposite end. John’s snores had stopped; his breathing not as deep now. Adam watched him over the edge of his coffee mug. He sipped quietly and watched John’s face as he slowly woke up. The little grunts and groans he emitted as he sat up from his position, stretching this way and that. Adam crunched up tighter against the arm of the sofa, pulling his feet under him, watching the way John physically took over the whole couch as he stretched. He sighed and laid still for a moment, his eye opening slowly, his mouth was a straight line as he reached for the remote, turning the televisions volume down further. Throwing the remote back down onto the table top with a clatter of plastic. He drew in a breath, turning his head, he stared at Adam who was still seated at the end of the couch, clutching his coffee mug.

            “That’s my mug,” John said, his voice raspy and deep from having just woken up. Adam grinned as he took a sip from it, pulling it away from his lips to set it down onto the table. There were no coasters, much to Adam’s dismay; he folded up a piece of junk mail and used that instead.

            “I don’t see your name on it,” Adam retorted quickly, his voice a sing song tone, as John raised his eyebrows and pointed to the steaming cup, twirling his finger, indicating for Adam to turn the mug around. Adam turned the mug carefully and saw there, written in large red letters, John’s name on the side, along with his company’s logo. He sighed, defeated, “Fine, so it is _your mug_ , feel better?” He put it back down on his make shift coaster on the table top. John chuckling, pleased with himself. He ran a hand through his hair, yawning.

            “When’d you get up?” He asked.

            “I don’t know, about an hour ago, give or take…” he wrapped his arms around his legs, pulling them closer to his chest. John sat quietly, a smile painted across his face as he watched Adam fidget in his spot. His eyes falling on the television, not really watching it, simply staring.

            “You hungry?” John asked finally. Adam shook his head, his voice muffled by his knees, his chin resting against them as he spoke, “Nah, I ate some of your English muffins.” John nodded and turned back to the television, eye glazing over in front of the large screen. The silence between them stretched and settled itself in the room, blanketing them, buffered by the unceasing murmur of the television. Adam liked that the quiet between them wasn’t uncomfortable, it just was and that was heartening. He had expected their interactions to be bumpy or John to be awkward, but John wasn’t and everything felt as though this was how it was supposed to be. Eventually, Adam relaxed and let his legs go, crossing them, his knee touched John’s foot. He hadn’t realized it but he’d been holding back. His eyes locked onto the television as he felt the barest of brushes against his knee. Looking down he saw John’s socked foot rubbing against his knee cap: just the simplest and lightest of touches pushing against him. John wasn’t looking at him, his eye was on the television but his foot was gently caressing Adam’s knee, applying more pressure with every caress. Adam glanced down for a moment and stared at John’s socked foot as it, shamelessly, stroked his knee. His hand reaching out to take hold of John’s foot as his eyes rose to meet John’s eye. Adam rubbed the sole with his thumb, applying the gentlest of firm pressure, before speaking.

            “John,” his thumbed rubbed in lazy circles, “do you wanna take a bath?” His voice was almost inaudible, the softest whisper, his thumb continuing to rub tenderly. John readjusted, pushing his foot into Adam’s hand.

“Are you trying to tell me I stink?” John’s voice was a dark rumble, his face a straight line, but Adam couldn’t stop himself from laughing at the sentiment. 

            “No,” Adam let out an airy, high laugh, his thumb now rubbing the ball of John’s foot, “I was just wondering if you wanted to, that’s all.” He let his voice trail off, figuring that a bath might be drawing the line a little too romantically in the sand for John. That maybe that was too much sentimentality, too much closeness. Adam felt a wave of stupid rush over him, as if he should have known and he didn’t. He could feel his face heat up slightly; he had thought for a moment that’d it be nice to take a bath with John. He kept rubbing John’s foot with his thumb, his eyes on the coffee table in front of him now. He could feel John’s gaze on him, though he pointedly ignored it.

            “You mean with you?” John said as the television continued to whine. Adam nodded, his thumb still working John’s foot. His palm getting into it now, pushing gently and rubbing here and there, cracking John’s toes as he went, listening to John’s soft, slight groans as he rubbed soothingly.

            “Of course I mean with me, what you thought I meant _alone_?” He continued to rub John’s foot as he smiled, letting the words sink in. He did want to lay in warm water and take a bubble bath with John. The night before had been astounding but he wanted more, he wanted to be naked with John and for John to be naked with him. Adam wanted to do the things he’d dreamed of doing with him. All the fantasies he’d had about John and all the ways John could touch him and all the ways he could touch John.

             John pulled his foot away quickly and sat up, his feet making contact with the hardwood floor, “Come on.” He said as he got up, tapping Adam on the knee as he pushed himself off the couch. Adam simply followed, letting the television continue on its own. John bounded up the stairs, two steps at a time, and Adam still wondered why he didn’t fall, or slip, John’s socks seeming too smooth for the wooden stairs. He followed John into his room, Adam’s bare feet still sticking to the floor as he went, making a soft pitter patter noise. That same oatmeal colored carpet greeted him once more. John was in the bathroom as Adam picked up jeans and dirty socks and dumped them into a pile beside the overflowing hamper. He heard water running as he compressed the dirty clothes into the hamper, trying to make more room for everything else. He heard John clear his throat behind him, “I don’t know how hot you like your water to be,” John jerked his head towards the tub. Adam abandoned the pile of dirty clothes and walked into the bathroom, his feet making audible sticking sounds as they hit the tiled floor.

             The bathroom was plain, like everything else in his house, it was simple and to the point. It still had the original, huge claw footed tub and over hanging shower head. This room was last as far as renovations went. Adam liked the old white octagon tiles on the floor and the plain porcelain stand sink. He was leaning on the edge of the tub, his fingers and hand in the water, swirling it around before he found his gaze on John’s soap bottles, blinking once, twice, three times before saying anything.

             “Don’t you have any bubble bath?” He looked at John over his shoulder, his fingers still dipped in the water. There was only one black bottle and a bar of soap, the bottle was leaning against the wall and standing on the curled porcelain edge of the tub. The bar of soap looked like it had been laying there for eons. Adam wrinkled his nose slightly at it. John sat on the closed lid of the toilet, shrugging, “I don’t think so.” Adam sighed, rolling his eyes as he stood, drying his hand off on his pants. Adam opened the cupboard and pushed bottles right and left, moving toilet paper and some towels out of the way. He finally reached the back of the closet and found a half empty bottle of lightly tinted, almost clear, soap. It smelled like lemons and sage. The label was almost worn off. He held it in his hand, noticing how the soap had hardened on the opening of the bottle, but it still smelled good when he raised it to his nose.

             “How long has this been in there?” He asked John, holding the bottle up. The water rushed out of the faucet behind him in a torrent, the steam making the mirror fog up. John squinted at it, as he reached out to take it from Adam. He stared at the label.

             “I have no idea. I don’t remember buying this.” He turned it over in his hand, looking at the old label.

             “It doesn’t really matter, its fine and it doesn’t smell like ‘ _Arctic War Zone_ ’ or whatever that shampoo you have is called.” Adam took the bottle from John’s hand as he laughed at Adam’s commentary, upturning it into the running water. John’s laugh was always a rich sound. Suds pervaded the tub, the rush of water churning the gel soap, causing that clean lemon and sage smell, not as potent as it would be if it was new but it would work. John was grinning at Adam. White against brown; his white teeth showing through his brown beard. Adam bit his lip, feeling that familiar heated rush, as he turned back to the tub, watching the bubble bath take over the surface of the water.

             There was a rustling behind him. Looking up, he caught a glimpse of John in the mirror taking off his shirt and throwing it on the ground. His pants soon followed, then his socks before Adam spoke up, “You know, we have this thing, it’s called a laundry basket.” Adam nodded exuberantly, John grinning at him as he continued, “They’ve been around for years. Really changed how we do laundry.” He got up from his seated position at the edge of the tub and walked over to John’s discarded clothes, wiping his wet hands on them instead of on his own. He gathered the clothes up and walked into the bedroom, dumping them on top of the massive pile of dirty laundry. He heard John chuckling. He turned around and saw John leaning against the bathroom door frame in nothing but his boxers. Adam blinked, trying not to blush, despite feeling warm all over. He folded his arms across his chest, raising one eyebrow.

            “I see you’re ready to take a bath now.” Adam stepped towards John, feeling like he was being pulled almost by a string.

            “Yeah, but you’re not.” Standing this close to John, Adam could feel the warmth of his body and see the pink of his tongue when he spoke. He was lost in John’s gaze once more when he felt tugging on the draw strings of his sweatpants. He looked down at John’s rough, tanned fingers as they tugged on the grey fabric strings; Adam smiled up at him. John pulled deliberately, dragging Adam into the bathroom with him. He willingly went, passing over from carpet to tile, the sudden coolness on his feet was refreshing in the fog and steam of the heated room.

           Once in the bathroom, John closed the door behind him and went to turn the water off. It was soothing and comforting; the way it smelled like lemon and sage but more lemon then anything else. It permeated the whole room, the steam from the heated tub causing the smell to cling in the air.

           “I’m surprised that soap has any scent left in it.” Adam said, John watched as Adams fingers fidgeted with the hem of his own shirt. John hummed in agreement. He took a step towards Adam, dipping his fingers in between the waistband of the pants and the soft of Adam’s stomach. John’s warm fingers against Adam’s skin made him bite back a sigh.

           He took off his own shirt, laying it on top of the closed lid of the toilet, his sweatpants swiftly followed. John took off his boxers and threw them haphazardly across the room, they landed in the corner by the door. Adam was too busy watching a naked John get into the tub to be concerned about whether the boxers were on the floor or in a hamper or on fire. He pulled his own underwear off in a hurry and let them fall wherever they may. The tub was big enough that there wasn’t much of a problem fitting them both. Adam sank between John’s legs in the hot water, hissing as it got up to his thighs. The heat and smell of the soap and John’s naked self, so close and insistent, was becoming sensory overload. He watched Adam closely, silent and pulling Adam back against him. Relaxing himself on John’s chest was nicer then Adam thought it would be. He could feel John’s lips pressed against the top of his head and making a trail down to his ear. Adam leaned his head back against John’s shoulder and sighed into John’s kisses, smiling. He let loose a soft moan when he felt John’s lips and teeth lightly biting at his earlobe.

           “Don’t tease,” Adam whispered, letting out a huff of laughter as John continued to kiss and lick Adam’s neck. Adam rolled his head back onto John’s shoulder, turning towards John’s neck. He latched on with his lips and his teeth. John gave a shuddering grunt as Adam bit into his neck lightly, dragging his teeth along the skin. John rested his hands on Adam’s lissome hips under the water. Adam leaned forward to shut off the flow of water. He could feel John pressed against him from behind. It didn’t take long for him to turn himself around, straddling John’s lap in the water, the bubbles obscuring most of his view of John’s lower half. He shifted slightly, causing the bubbles in the water to part, giving him the slightest glimpse of the dark trail of hair leading south. Adams hands were constantly grazing John’s chest with small movements, almost tickling, finally coming to rest on broad shoulders. They sat and watched one another; the water gradually becoming cooler.  

            Rough hands coasted down his back. He could feel John’s warm, smooth palms running down his shoulders, his arms, and to his hips, down to his cheeks. He kept scooting upwards, forwards, pressing more against John. He was almost out of the water entirely, only his knees covered completely. John smirked as he pressed his hands against Adam’s ass, grabbing and squeezing, using just enough pressure. Adam could feel his face heating up, he kept biting his lip out of habit. Trying to turn around and see John’s hands was fruitless, but he was giving it a valiant try, nonetheless. John grabbed a handful of Adam’s ass and pulled him closer. Adam heard the sound of water running off of him as he was reeled in tighter. Their noses were almost touching when John’s left hand let go and suddenly returned with a wet, stinging slap against one of Adam’s cheeks.

           “John!” He yelped and jolted. He arched his back, sitting up straight, glaring at John heatedly. He could feel John’s rumble in his chest, his laughter was smooth and dark. Adam’s skin went from snow white to bright, burning pink. He turned his head to look, seeing the way the red blotch just began to fade before John did it again. Adam shuddered in place and made a low groaning sound, his fingers tightening on the sides of John’s neck. John was smiling just enough, his gaze stuck on Adam, watching him writhe in the water, on his lap. That sharp, stinging, burning smack had felt like electricity shooting through him. He’d never been spanked and being in the water, it seemed to only amplify the sensations crawling over his sensitive skin. He kept wiggling his hips slightly, trying to get John to do it again; he wanted to feel that stunning sharpness one more time, his teeth sawing into his bottom lip.

          John let his hands wander over Adam’s form before coming back to spank one cheek and then the other in quick succession. John stopped only when Adam bowed his head and started humming, his breathing becoming harder and faster, his body becoming taught, trembling, waiting. But it never came. John’s hands soothingly rubbed over Adam’s pert cheeks, stroking away the red marks. His skin was sore, it stung, but it was satisfying and struck some deep chord inside that had remained untouched his entire life up until now. John’s hands were back to squeezing and kneading Adam’s now delightfully tender cheeks. Adam was biting his lip, nuzzling his nose against John’s temple, kissing here and there, his lips traveling down to John’s ear, earning a groan from the man under him. Adam rested his body against John’s chest, arms wrapped around his neck tightly, their breaths mingling. He could feel Johns hands on his skin, pulling, squeezing, pushing.

            “Mmm,” Adam moaned as John’s finger tip pushed against his most intimate spot. Adam felt his face heating up again, his mind filling with a replaying loop of the night before. John turned his head, his lips against Adam’s ear, his breath was hot and his voice was low, “You wanna play in the tub or in the bed?” Adam stiffened, his eyes going wide. John’s fingers continued to squeeze and rub Adam’s cheeks as he spoke.

            “What?” Adam’s voice was small and tight in John’s ear, his tongue kept peeking out to lick his lips, his fingers were locked on John’s shoulders.

            “You heard me,” John’s voice was raspy, his face broken into a grin. His hands pulled Adam’s supple cheeks apart, rubbing two fingers against his entrance.

            “Like, what we did last night, or…?” Adam’s voice was soft and almost a whisper. John didn’t answer. His fingers continued to press and rub between Adam’s legs. Eliciting little uneven sighs from the man above him, thighs starting to quake with the exertion of holding himself upright. He finally shrugged, his fingers busy, “Whatever you want to do.” He said, he wasn’t meeting Adam’s gaze. Instead, watching how Adam pushed his hips back to meet his fingers, how he quickly stilled. John idly licked around Adam’s chest, catching one small pink nipple between his teeth, waiting. Lukewarm water sloshed around and between them, filling the silence. Adam opened his mouth, his jaw hanging open for a brief moment before being able to respond, his stare locked onto John.

            “I want to…” Adam made a vague gesture with his hand as he spoke, as if trying to coax the words out of himself, “I want you.” He said finally, swallowing apprehensively. John stared at Adam when he spoke, watching the way he pushed himself flush against John’s chest. Adam sucked his bottom lip, rubbing his nose against John’s. He nodded, giving a kiss to the tip of Adam’s nose and then leaned back against the smooth porcelain of the tub, his hands holding onto Adam’s hips, his thumbs gently rubbing the soft skin there in slow, teasing circles. John took a breath, then nodded resolutely, eyeing Adam carefully. His face was expressionless. Adam broke out into a wide smile

            “I would be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about it.” He stayed seated on John’s lap, holding his gaze. The silence was punctured only by the sloshing water as John moved his legs. Adam grinned up at him, resting his chin on the other mans chest. John made a move to get out of the tub. He unstopped the drain and that deep, signature popping sound resonated through the porcelain. As John got out of the tub the water level dropped significantly. John rushed a towel over himself as Adam stepped out of the tub, standing on the towel on the floor, his knees pressed together, trying to stay as warm as he had been in the water, much to no avail. Adam had his arms folded across his chest, drip drying. John seemed to remember he wasn’t alone and finally reached into the small cupboard to grab a clean towel for Adam. It was a dingy lime green and frayed on the edges; it had signs of dry rot.

            Adam dried himself off, only to be taken by the hand, as he was folding the towel and laying it on the radiator. It landed on the floor as he was pulled out into the bedroom. As the bathroom door was opened a wave of steam followed them out. The afternoon sun was high in the sky, shining in through the windows, as John guided Adam’s naked form onto the bed. Adam was nervous, he could feel his heart hammering inside his chest, feel that familiar cool creeping of anxiety on his skin.  He scooted up the bed, pushing against the pillows. John prowled up along side him on all fours, he could feel John’s stare. He felt exposed, laying on the bed with John and both of them naked, Johns forceful stare pinning him in place. It made him nervous, he wanted to be closer, like they’d been in the tub. He wanted John to hold him on his lap and kiss him again.

            John hovered over Adam, who couldn’t help the small whimper that came out of his throat. He focused on John as he got closer, kissing him with a gentleness Adam wasn’t expecting. John was eager: the way he pushed himself against Adam, running the fingers of his one hand through Adam’s hair, his other hand coasting up and down Adam’s side, caressing down his hip and to his backside once more. Adam felt flush everywhere, his lips locked onto John, his fingers running up to hold onto the other man’s neck, pulling him down into their kiss, tighter, closer, more. It was wonderful, being pushed against this man above him. He wanted whatever John would give. He wanted all of John and for John to want all of him. His knees felt wobbly at the thoughts. He pulled back, both of them panting, Adam’s lips swollen and pink.

            “I’ve never done this before.” He whispered, experiencing his gut tightly coiling once more. John pushed his forehead to Adam’s, their noses rubbing as he spoke, his breath was hot against Adam’s lips, “Neither have I.” Adam smiled, laughing suddenly, his eyes closed and his lips pushing to John’s once more in a hurried kiss.

            “That’s such bullshit,” he kissed the tip of John’s nose quickly, “I mean, I’m sure you’ve done a variation of this before.” He trailed his fingers across John’s chest and down his stomach, finger tips running lightly through thick, scratchy, dark hair. John grinned before lazily planting kisses down Adam’s jaw and down to his neck, nipping with his lips as he went. Adam bit his lip, trying to button his mouth closed, he didn’t want to seem too willing, but having John’s everything pressed against him so tightly was long over due. He could feel John’s hands caressing down his sides, John’s lips still on his neck and working their way up into his hair line. He was everywhere: touching, kissing, covering, John was all encompassing. Adam kept trying to kiss back, his fingers dragging down John’s arms, leaving red streaks, legs wrapping around John’s hips, holding on by the ankles. Their lips touched once more, this time in a messy, wet embrace. Adam mewled into John’s open mouth.

            John broke their embrace, Adam trying to follow, craning upwards to try and reconnect their lips. He watched as John leaned over to the night stand, rummaging in one of the drawers. In that one moment, the sound of clutter moving around against the interior of the wooden drawer was the loudest thing in the world. Adam watched John as he searched. Noticing the way John’s muscles flexed as he leaned over and dug around, the way his back muscles popped as he kept craning his head downwards to see into the back of the drawer. He closed the first one, only to open the second and begin the procedure all over again. Adams hand drifted southwards on himself, his eyes closing as he grasped lightly at his cock; he rolled his eyes in his head, letting himself move through the lazy grip of his hand. He felt the bed shift and his eyes shot open. John was straddling him again, holding a small bottle of lubricant.

            “This’ll work better than spit.” John said, popping the cap and pouring some fluid onto his fingertips. Adam grimaced. His voice was taut when he spoke, “Really setting the mood there.” John chuckled, rubbing his fingertips together, warming up the silky substance coating them. He scooted closer, pushing Adam’s legs apart with his knees. John guided his hand down between Adam’s thighs, his fingers slick with lubricant. Adam’s breath hitched when he felt John’s fingers at his entrance, pushing against his slight resistance for only a moment until they slipped tightly inside. His eyes kept fluttering shut and his mouth hung open, his hands tightly gripping the sheets. He’d never done anything to himself that felt as fulfilling as John’s fingers felt inside him. Johns hand moved quicker, just enough to make a rhythm. He kept pushing his hips down to meet Johns fingers, he felt hot and desperate already, all over. His eyes closed, small moans came tumbling out of his mouth, his fingers enmeshed with the sheets, an iron grip.

            “John,” he whined. John nodded and withdrew his fingers gradually and gently. Adam sighed, feeling empty and, suddenly, very frustrated. Adam sat up, taking the small bottle from John’s hands, opening the cap with a sharp unbuckling sound. He drizzled some of the fluid onto his right hand, snapping the lid shut, he grasped John’s cock in front of him. It was just enough to elicit a grunt; his hips pushed forward into Adam’s hand. He pumped his fist deliberately up and down over John’s length, feeling every vein, bump, and dip. He didn’t tease too much, he ran his slick hand up to the tip, swirling his fingers around the deeply colored, flushed rim. John gave a guttural sound, tilting his hips into Adam’s tight hand more forcefully. Adam stopped, he slid his hand up and off, slowly, watching John’s pained expression, the way John’s hips tried to follow. He wiped his hand on the sheets and laid down on his back, his fingers gripping the sheets once more, waiting.

            “On your side,” John whispered, gently rolling Adam over, laying down behind him. Adam felt the bed shift under John’s settling weight.

            “But now I can’t see you,” Adam murmured as he tossed his head back onto Johns shoulder, weaving his fingers backwards through John’s hair. He felt his leg being picked up and propped on John’s hip; he could feel the heat radiating off of John’s cock, as it pushed against his back. John’s fingers held his cheeks apart; Johns lips on his neck, insistent. His cock was pressed keenly against Adam’s opening. John pushed against Adam more, grunting in Adam’s ear, coasting his fingers down Adam’s form, leaving hot, goose bump laden trails on Adam’s skin. He could hear John’s breath in his ear, feel how near he was, how heated John’s skin was against his own. Adam pushed his hips back, felt John’s cock fervently pressed between his cheeks. John made a deep sound in his throat. Adam’s eyes were barely open, his mind was hazy with want. John was everywhere, all over him, all around him, pushing against his entrance. His hands, his breath, his smell, he was everywhere all at once.

            “Ready?” John’s voice was a rumble in his ear, Adam could feel how hotly the tip of John’s cock was as it pressed to his opening. Adam swallowed thickly, nodding sluggishly, he felt like he was covered in a warm molasses. He hissed air through his teeth as he felt John’s cock pushing its way into his well slicked opening. The stretching burned and Adam let out an animalistic sound, his mouth falling open and his head slumping forwards onto the pillows.

            “Okay?” John’s voice was trembling but gruff in his ear. He could only nod his answer as John’s teeth latched onto the back of his neck, his tongue lavishing the skin there as his hips pushed forward more. It was so different from his toy he’d always used, it was making him moan and groan and tilt his head back and close his eyes and sweat. He’d never masturbated to the point that he’d sweat, not like this. It didn’t hurt so much as it was unfamiliar. John’s cock was perfect in all the right ways: it was warm and real and stretched him like nothing else ever had. Nothing else had ever made him feel this satisfied and impeccably full, as though all the pieces had come together and fit perfectly. He was gripping the sheets, his eyes closed, feeling the way John gently rocked his hips against his own, his cock going deeper, only to pull out and reenter again. Adam let loose a feverish moan as he tried to relax, his hole gripping John’s cock tightly, but that was easier thought then done.

            Adam’s mewling and moaning, John’s grunts and heavy breathing, the sound of skin slapping on skin, and the wet crackling sound emanating from between them was all the sound in the room. Adam was letting out high pitched moans, his nails digging into John’s neck now as his arm had come up to hold onto John as he pummeled him from behind. Johns left arm was wrapped around Adam tightly, pulling Adam’s back to his front. Adam could feel the sweat between them sticking to him, John’s grunts becoming deeper and more pronounced, he was becoming more demanding, more adamant.

            “Oh, John, _fuck_.” Adam’s mouth hung open, his tongue almost lolling out of his mouth, his eyes closed, as he listened to the bed squeaking under them. He was having a hard time concentrating on anything except John, his mind was a muddled haze. John was now wrapped almost completely around Adam, his cock moving quickly in and out in rapid succession. Adam allowed his free hand to roam down his front and grasp his own cock. He let John’s thrusts move his cock through the tight grip of his hand. He could feel the tingling in his hips, he knew he wasn’t going to last long if John just kept doing that marvelous thing causing a thrumming, spreading warmth when he hit something perfectly, deep inside.

             He shuddered, rolling his head backwards, eyes barely open, breathes labored, leg shaking as it was still draped over John’s hip. He felt that natural tightness as he opened his mouth in a silent moan, coming over his own hand in droves. John shifted behind him, pushing harder, deeper, faster, more urgently. Adam could feel John’s fingers gripping his skin, leaving marks, but he didn’t care, he was completely sated. John gripped him closer, Adam could feel John’s chest hair scratching his back. John laid his forehead against Adam’s shoulder and with a heavy groan, he came, his hips shaking. Adam smiled tiredly, his eyes closed, he felt warm everywhere, inside and out. He could feel John’s hips coming to a slow, stuttering halt. They laid next to each other in silence for a few minutes, each catching their breath, but it was Adam who broke the silence, “Now I need another bath.”

             John laughed, it was the most comforting sound Adam had ever heard.


	14. Airports and Little White Lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam and John go to the airport. Adam helps John tell a white lie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is shorter then usual. I couldn't find a way to tie it into the next bit. So here you go. 
> 
> Thanks!

              It was beautiful outside. The sky was perfectly clear, not a cloud in sight. It was hot, but the breeze made it bearable. The wind pushing the humidity out. The road in front of them shimmered with the heat radiating off of the asphalt. The trees outside were moving in the breeze. The air conditioning in the truck was minimal, the leather seats now cool to the touch; though, John preferred the window open. Adam hated the buffering sound the open window made as the air rushed by, it was irritating but better then drowning in smoke,. His back pack was at his feet and they had been sitting in silence for the past ten minutes. Getting into the car had been fine, perfectly normal, but now the air was tight and constricting. As though many things were being left unspoken.

             The large complex loomed on the horizon, the signs becoming more numerous, the police cars more frequent, and traffic heavier. John slowed down, the swift movement of air over the open window lessening. Adam could feel his stomach tighten, not for the first time that day, or the first time that month. He’d tried to remain as resolute as he could during the past month and a half. He’d tried to distract himself but the closer this day came the harder it became to do so. He tucked his knees up against his chest as the signs for parking lots appeared overhead. As quickly as the signs appeared they were gone, the truck smoothly gliding underneath them. They didn’t speak as John drove to the gate, taking the ticket from the machine. They continued to sit in silence as the truck moved slowly through the roundabout to the parking lot; picking a spot as close to the front as could be found. The truck came to a stand still, parked tightly between two other cars. Adam was motionless, only the corners of his mouth tugging downwards.

            “You okay?” John asked, his voice was that same deep, dark rumble it always was. Adam nodded tightly, saying nothing and he opened his car door and slid out; his sneakers hitting the concrete floor with a slapping sound. He grabbed his backpack before slamming the door and walking around to the back. Where he waited for the trunk to pop open with that tell-tale hydraulic sound. theThe truck shifted as John opened his door, one booted foot hanging out the side. He flicked his cigar, it bounced off of the car parked closest and hit the ground, where he stepped on it as he got out. The door shut behind him with a definitive _clunk_.

            “I really can’t be late.” Adams words were laced with acid, biting and harsh, it wasn’t clear if they were directed at the closed trunk or John, nevertheless, John simply smiled. He said nothing as the trunk opened and he pulled out Adams suitcase. It was a red suitcase, lots of scuff marks on the bottom, it was old. The name tag on it was barely legible, covered in tiny Russian scrawl.

            “Good thing you didn’t have that much stuff, huh?” John asked, chuckling, as he settled the bag down onto its four wheels on the concrete. Adam sniffed crossly. He was all prickles and barbs today.

            “I had to throw out or give away a lot of it.” He pushed the black release button on top so the handle stuck up. John closed and locked the trunk, the horn sounding as he did so. Adam sighed, taking the handle of the suitcase and marching away towards the elevator. He left John to follow behind, they walked in silence towards the elevator. Waiting in continued silence as the elevator came up through its glass encasement. They stood in silence side by side inside the elevator. Adam’s eyes locked onto the downward counting red numbers, sixth floor, fifth floor, fourth floor, third floor, second floor, and the elevator came to a halt. The doors opened with a soft whoosh. People stood clustered around the entrance, Adam pushed past them as he exited the elevator.

            Adam was moving faster then normal. John didn’t struggle to keep up though, he just followed behind quietly, watching. There were people everywhere. Everyone had somewhere to be, someone to see. Adam got in line at the ticket terminal, waiting behind a large man in a suit, he was speaking into his phone. Adam sighed, moving this way and that trying to see how long the line was. He was mad at himself, this was so much more emotion then he’d been expecting. A piece of him had been desperately hoping John would drop him off, so they wouldn’t have this lingering, awkward goodbye; a farewell that Adam was certain would be permanent. He gulped audibly thinking on it, his face feeling pale.

            “You don’t have to wait in line with me, you know.” Adam said as he turned to look at John, who was now standing beside him. John’s arms were folded across his chest, he shrugged, looking down at the tiled floor.

            “Its okay,” John said, his voice ever reassuring, simple, warm. Adam stared at John as he spoke, a small smile lingering on his face. He finally pulled his eyes away, trying to focus on anything, anywhere that wasn’t this man standing next to him. He could feel John’s warmth on his back, moving forward by a step, trying to get away from the memory of it. The line moved slowly. The man in front of Adam inched forward as one customer was taken after the other until it was Adams turn. John stepping out of line, waiting on the nearby bench. Adam put his papers down on the counter. He engaged in small talk with the smiling woman behind the counter. Forcing a smile, everything felt unnatural and pressing. John, seated over there, waiting. Adam, standing at the counter, delaying.

            The woman’s voice had been cheerful enough as she handed Adam his boarding pass and his passport. She was all smiles and polite questions. They took his luggage and thanked him for flying with his chosen airline. Instructing him to have a safe and pleasant journey, though he knew there was nothing pleasant about this flight, this day, this moment. He nodded, saying nothing. Turning sharply on his heel, he walked away towards John.

            “Got everything?” John asked as he stood up. Adam nodded in silence. He gestured towards security. They began taking small steps in that direction, meandering almost, as if neither of them really had anywhere to be.

            “You can’t wait with me at the gate, unfortunately,” he let out a soft laugh, “I’ll have to go the rest alone.” His icy exterior finally melting, Adam realized this was their adieu.

            “Yeah, I know,” Johns voice sounded far off, his gaze stuck on Adam. He took a step towards the roped off security line. He was trying to pull away; he could feel his heart falling in his chest. John followed behind him slowly. They strolled more so then walked, John close behind, Adam leading the way, albeit reluctantly. People were moving this way and that, walking or running over to security or to the coffee shop, some of them on their phones, chatting loudly, some with children trying to shush them. The sun was still shining through the huge plate glass windows, bouncing off of the high gloss, polished floors; the sun shining in his eyes as he walked. It only served to remind him of what he was leaving behind. They stopped just in front of the security line, it was roped off with black poles and thick nylon dividers.

            “Well, I’ll call you when I land. Promise.” Adam’s voice was low, his hand running idly through his hair. People walked past them, streaming into the waiting line. Adam and John stood very close, almost touching but not quite. He’d never forget how safe he felt, here, anywhere, with John.

            “Yeah, I’d like to know if you got there alright,” John put his hands in his pockets, sighing, “I don’t really know what to say.” Adam smiled, biting his bottom lip as he leaned into John’s chest, his forehead making contact with the soft cotton fabric of John’s shirt. John smelled just as he always had, Adam knew he’d never forget that smell.

            “Do I have to spell it out for you?” Adam spoke into John’s shirt, his voice muffled, his eyes closed. John wrapped his arm around Adam, “Yeah, why don’t you.” His voice was deep and soft, muted from nuzzling into Adam’s soft blonde hair. Adam took in a deep breath before speaking. Taking in the way John smelled one more time.

            “Kiss me goodbye and tell me you’ll miss me and that we’ll see each other again.” Adam’s fingers tightened on John’s shirt, he could feel John’s lips on the top of his head, gentle pressure here and there in his hair. John’s hushed voice finding his ear, “I’ll miss you and we will see each other again.” Adam’s eyes squeezed shut, he could feel his face pulling into a grimace, heat rising in his cheeks. He rubbed his face into John’s chest one last time before pulling away, he pawed at his eyes, trying to keep tears from spilling. He readjusted his backpack on his shoulders, he kept looking at the security line over his shoulder. Trying to distract himself from this man in front of him. Knowing he’d give anything to stay here.

             “I should go now,” He said quietly, almost a whisper. John nodded silently, his mouth a straight line, his hands back in his pockets, Adam pointed to him, “Till we meet again.” He was smiling far more confidently then he felt. John’s unwavering gaze on him was making his chest hurt. His feet were betraying him, dragging as he went to wait in line. John let a slow smile spread across his features as he watched Adam walk into the crowd. He stood there for some time, hands in his pockets, people walking past him quickly, not paying him any heed. He watched Adam’s backpack weave through the waiting line, then through security, and out on the other side. He could feel a hole developing in his chest as he realized he’d lost sight of Adam; he’d disappeared into the crowd and, truthfully, John didn’t know if he really would see Adam ever again. A part of him whispered that he’d told Adam a lie and that Adam knew it.

             Walking back to his truck, John realized his heart hurt.


	15. And In the End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theres a cat, John takes a nap, and Adam makes him lunch.

            The tree in the backyard was almost leafless. Only a few leaves clung to the thin brown branches. The rest had fallen to the ground ages ago, turning various shades of black and brown. The late fall wind was pushing the little tree this way and that. The shrubs in the yard rustled, but for the most part remained stationary. The leaves which had fallen to the ground so long ago, were whipped up into a small whirlwind, dancing about the yard until they came to rest, scattered. The yard was small, a grass patch hedged in by three-foot-high wooden walls, put in years ago to keep the neighbors out. The yard had been bigger to start with, but after the addition of a sunroom, it had shrunk to a mere postage stamp. The sunroom was the best room in the house. The ceiling was plated glass, letting the sun stream in all day, even in the evening it was warm. In the winter it was perfect, the heat could be turned down but the sunroom was cozy. The couch was positioned in such a way that it soaked up all the sun’s rays and stayed warm for hours, even after the sun went down. At present, a white cat was curled up in the very middle of the sofa, taking up little room physically, but he obviously thought the sofa was his. His strikingly white fur didn’t blend in very well with the mahogany colored leather couch or the dark wood floors.

            Distantly, keys jangled, the sound of the front door lock turning and clicking. The cat remained stationary, an ear twitched as a door was opened and subsequently shut, the sounds of rustling bags could be heard coming nearer and nearer. Someone’s shoes were on the floor; the way the pattering sounds went from stone to wood as they crossed from the foyer to the kitchen. The shoes came off with a _clunk, clunk_ and then the quiet sounds of socked feet coasting over the floor. The cats’ eyes went from contentedly closed to little slits. The rustling bags ceased as they entered the kitchen, just off the sunroom. The refrigerator opened and that was the cats signal. He stretched, spreading his paws out and yawning, his claws coming out for a moment before retracting once more. The cat jumped down off of his perch, exiting the sunroom; the kitchen was cool in comparison. The cat walked to the stool pulled out from the island, jumping up onto it and then on the counter. The granite stone was cool under his paws. He surveyed his kingdom. His white tail swishing on the stone. His yellow eyes watching. The person shut the refrigerator door as they crumpled up plastic bags in their hands, placing them in the cupboard.

            “Hello,” the man spoke to the cat, coming over to scratch him behind his ears. The cat purred loudly and contentedly, “I’m sorry, I don’t have anything for you.” He continued to rub the cats head. He pulled away with one final scratch under the cats’ chin, then went back to picking up the remainder of the bags and digging in them. He placed boxes in the cupboard, cereals on the counter, things that went upstairs were in their own bag. The cats tail swished. Silence pervaded the kitchen once more. All the bags were soon put away, everything where it was supposed to be. The cat had laid down on the cool stone counter, curling up on himself, his eyes still open, ever watchful. The man turned to the cat once more, leaning on the counter, slowly rubbing the cats’ ears and his head: the cat closed his eyes in bliss.

            “Is he in the other room?” The cat purred his response, the man pulling away with a chuckle. The cat uncurled himself, yawned, and followed closely behind. The man’s footsteps were muffled on the wood floors as he walked from the kitchen to the sunroom. The couch was vacant; the cats spot permanently imbedded in the leather by his claw marks on the middle cushion. The other couch was occupied and its guest had not stirred. His socked feet were crossed at the ankles, his snores were light, not nearly as deep and rumbly as they usually were.

            “John?” The man on the couch opened his eye at the voice, feeling fingers dragging through his salt and pepper hair. He drew in a breath before speaking.

            “Adam,” he said quietly, smiling and stretching as he spoke, “how long have you been gone?” John ran a hand to the back of his neck. Adam’s fingers in his hair continued.

            “An hour or so, you were falling asleep when I left though.” John sat up as he nodded. He moved down on the couch, patting the cushions, indicating Adam to sit next to him. Outside in the yard the tree shifted in the wind again, the already fallen leaves at its base swirled in the passing breeze. Adam seated himself next to John, leaning his head on John’s shoulder.

            “I got you that gross frozen pizza you like,” Adam’s voice was quiet, tired sounding. His eyes closed as he linked his arm with John’s, nuzzling into John’s shoulder. His hair was just below his ears, much longer then it had ever been before. His stunning blonde hair had greyed over the years.

            “Yeah?” He chuckled, “Thanks.” John leaned his head against Adam’s, letting a smile cross his features. He was used to this. Adam always critiqued the food he liked.

            “You’re welcome,” Adam sighed, leaning further onto John, their arms still linked, “I’m tired.”

            “Take a nap,” John said, matter-of-factly, making no effort to move, perfectly content as he was.

            “If I nap now I won’t sleep tonight,” Adam yawned into John’s shoulder, pulling away then, shaking his head in an attempt to stay awake, “Are you hungry?” He asked as he disentangled himself from John, standing up. John shrugged.

            “Yeah, I could eat.” Adam nodded, turning on his heel and walking back out to the kitchen, the white cat following close behind. John stayed seated on the couch, trying to wake up, continuously yawning. He heard Adam shuffling around in the kitchen, muttering to himself as he opened the refrigerator. The sound of drawers opening and closing, cold plastic sliding on plastic. The door shut with an absolute thud and the fan whirred to life, cooling the contents once more. John listened to Adam talking to the cat, telling him to get out of the cupboard, that he had food in his bowl. The cat protested with meows. John smiled to himself. His gaze was caught by the tree in the yard. The wind constantly pushing the little tree to the left and then to the right, the thin branches shaking in the breeze. John sighed, shifting in his seat, thinking about getting up.

            “Here,” Adams voice came from the doorway, he had a plate in his hand, there was a sandwich on it. John smiled, extending his hand, taking the plate from Adam.

            “Thanks,” John said as he held the plate with one hand and picked up the sandwich with the other. Adam sat down next to him, tucking his left leg under himself. The white cat jumped up onto the sofa arm, stretching as it walked up onto the back of the cushions, trying to find the highest spot to lay on. John chewed in silence. It was an easy silence. The sounds of the wind could be heard, the tree in the yard constantly shifting, in the alley a plastic bag was being carried away. They sat in silence, Adam leaning against John as he ate.

            “Full?” Adam asked quietly, watching as John devoured the food in front of him.  

            “Yes,” John nodded as he continued to eat. Adam took the plate from John’s hand and got up, heading back into the kitchen. John’s mouth full with the last bite of his sandwich, his voice was muffled as he spoke around his food.

            “I wasn’t done with that,” he called, the sounds of the plate clinking into the dishwasher could be heard. Adam sighed to himself before shouting back, “You are now.” The dishwasher closed, the running water in the kitchen sink ceased. John chuckled to himself. Adam reappeared in the doorway, walking over to the couch, and sat back down beside John. The cat hadn’t moved from the back of the sofa. John leaned back against the cushions, grunting contentedly as he did so.  

            “Happy now?” Adam asked, his arms folded across his chest. John nodded silently as he raised his arm, gesturing for Adam to sit closer. He scooted over, their sides becoming flush. John tilted his head back to look at Adam and a gentle smile spread across his features. Adam marveled at how that smile had changed over the years; noticing all the different ways John had aged. Everything from the salt and pepper beard to the softer skin around his eyes. Adam smiled back at him, unable to stop himself. He felt the same way that he had all those years ago. They were quiet and again the same comfortable silence descended for a few moments, broken only by John’s rumbling response, “Yes.”

            Adam smiled broadly and allowed the comfortable silence between them to continue.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thats it. Thank you so much for reading, I wouldn't have gotten this far without all your astounding support.  
> See you next time!


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